L' Estate di Suicidio
by Clynn
Summary: *Attempted Suicide* Harry is sinking deeper and deeper into depression. When Dumbledore's kindness can't even reach him, what chance does Snape have? Chapter 25 is finally up!
1. 1

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13 for dark themes and some cursing. Rating may, but probably won't, go up.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Attempted suicide, much angst. This is my first HP fic, please review. If I'm not updating fast enough, email me at lonegungrrl@hotmail.com Nagging will get you everywhere. Enjoy. 

Sometimes, I awaken in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, as my mind replays those last few moments before he died. They tried to tell me, afterwards, that it wasn't my fault, that I did everything that could be expected of me and more. I know the truth. I didn't stop it in time, I didn't protect him, and it is because of my failure that he is gone. Sometimes, my nightmares refuse to end, even when I wake. I walk about in a dazed state, seeing it over and over in the back of my head. I can't eat, anymore. My survival cost his life, and anything to sustain my life tastes bitter. With every breath I take, it is a struggle not to choke. I wonder why I fight it, why I stay alive. Perhaps even now, I don't have the courage to die. The Dursleys haven't noticed, yet, that I am growing thinner, or that I cry out in the night as they all sleep. They haven't realized that my nocturnal screams are the only sounds I've uttered since I returned from school this summer. It doesn't bother me now, the way it once would have. I have too much emotion invested in the past to care much for the present.

It is nearly two o'clock in the morning. I struggle to remain awake each night, attempting to exhaust myself so much that no dreams will come. I haven't managed to make it to that point, though I have gone many nights without any sleep at all. I wish with all my heart for a sleeping potion, something that will give me just one night's peace, but I know I don't deserve it. I killed a boy, though not directly, and every night, I suffer, not even as much as I deserve. I can feel myself slipping, now, and sleep is taking over. The nightmare is coming. Tonight, it is not about Cedric. Tonight, my dreams take me to a time after he is dead, when Voldemort looks at me, straight in the eyes and gives me what I now long for. The pain was burning and fierce, no one could have avoided feeling it. I didn't understand then, but now that its too late, I do. Now I want another chance, to take my punishment as I know I should. But even in my dreams, I'm not capable. I manage to wake myself with my own screaming, and I am infuriated with myself. Finally, I allow my own self-loathing to take control. I don't need this anymore. It doesn't matter if death is too good for me, I'm too weak to fight anymore.

I make my way down to the Dursley's kitchen. I've done their dishes for them often enough, I know where the knives are. I reach carefully for the one I know is sharpest. Its blade gleams silver in the moonlight that pours in through the window. An intense relief flows through me, and I'm glad it will finally be over. No more nightmares, a nice peaceful sleep for once. I'll never have to look into the sun again, or into the faces of people who think they love me. If they knew who I was inside, they wouldn't love me. I know it. They will never have to find out. There is a slight smile on my face as I dig the knife deeply down my arm. One long line of a deep red liquid flows forth, and a smile at the warmth of it pouring over my arm. I pull the knife away, and pause to admire the beauty of it, before continuing. As I begin to press into the next arm, I feel the knife slip out of my fingers. Though I try to hold on, it flies away, into the grasp of someone who I can't quite make out in the darkness. I try to yell at them, to get my knife back and finish the job, but I can't even do that. I've lost too much blood, and I slip out of consciousness, cursing my own weakness.


	2. 2

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: See part one.

Author's notes: Two chapters in one night, I'm good, right? Granted, the chapters are really short but... Oh well. Review, please!

Its too bright here. I'm not sure where I am. There is a voice, loud and obnoxious, boring through my senses and its taking so much effort to understand it. "Will he be awake soon, Poppy?" Its like a chainsaw driving through my skull. The voice sounds familiar, but distorted, and I can't quite place it. They are talking about me, I think, but I am too far away to care. I don't want to go back to them. 

"He should be waking now, Professor. His physical wounds should have healed overnight, and the sleeping draft I gave him only lasts six hours. I was going to give him something Severus made, a potion that will make him forget any inhibitions he might have about speaking to you. He will not speak otherwise, I'm afraid." This voice too, was familiar. Clearly female, it rings annoyingly in my head. What is it she is saying about me? It is a struggle to comprehend her words.

"Alright, Poppy. I hate to do this to him, but I need to know. I have to understand why, if I'm going to help him." The voice is a little clearer now, but I still can't quite understand it. Some vile liquid is being poured down my throat, and I want to choke, but that would be weak. I swallow it, instead. Now I can feel my head emptying in a way that reminds me alarmingly of the imperius curse. I open my eyes cautiously, and find the face of a man swimming above me. I blink twice and will the world to hold still. Seconds later I am able to focus, and I again look at the face above me. 'Dumbledore,' I realize. I remember vaguely that I hadn't wanted to see him, but I can't quite remember why. Again, the image of being completely under someone else's control comes unbidden into my mind, and I gasp and try to run, try to escape.

"Harry? Harry, its okay, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want you to talk to me." Dumbledore turned towards me and I fall back to the bed, alarmed. "What's wrong, child? You can talk to me, you know."

"Please... Please, I don't want to talk to you, sir. I don't... I don't remember why, but I don't. What did you give me? Why are you doing this to me? I don't like being controlled, sir, please..." I hate myself for the whining, pleading tone my voice has taken, and for the look of pain that crosses Dumbledore's face.

"I don't want this either, Mr. Potter, I only want you to talk to me. I want to help you. Perhaps I should just give you time... I'm always here for you if you need me, child." Dumbledore turns away, and I feel a small pang of regret. "Poppy, I think I'll have a word with Severus now, it seems his potion has a few kinks left to work out. Please see that Mr. Potter is well protected from ANYONE that might seek to harm him." I watch with limited interest as Dumbledore glides powerfully from the room.


	3. 3

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: See part one

Author's Notes: I'm so, so sorry this took so long, and that its so short. I was sick, and I actually managed to convince myself that I worked in a chocolate factory run by Voldemort. Gotta love those crazy fever induced hallucinations, I tell ya... Anyway, updates should get more consistent after this, since I'm feeling MUCH better. I love everyone who already reviewed, and everyone who didn't, do so now!

"Let me talk to him, Albus. Please, just let me try... No, I don't think he'll open up to me, but I don't think he'll be terrified of me... I've been where he is, and I think I understand what he needs. You saved me, Albus, just let me try with him." I sit up and reach for my glasses. More people talking about me, fabulous. At least my mind is my own again, I don't have that empty, echoing feeling in my head anymore. Looking around me, I think it is early afternoon. I assume I have been sleeping for a few hours. The voices in the hall stop briefly, and I begin to work out who they might be. One is Dumbledore, of that much I am certain. The second... Snape? Wanting to talk to me? Not a chance...

"Harry? Harry, I know you are awake." I turn and look at Snape, not bothering to hide my disgust.

"And why, _Professor_ Snape, would you give a damn? And since when is it Harry? I rather thought you didn't know I _had _any name other than Potter." My voice is cold, and I am vaguely satisfied with the result. Snape certainly won't stick around very long if I keep insulting him like this. The man hates me, and I'm pretty sure he is only here to mock me anyway. 

"I'll ignore your tone of voice, Mr. Potter, as well as your belligerence. I came here to offer you my assistance, because I know damn well that you need it. I know your tricks, boy, and you aren't going to scare me off with your juvenile insults. I've been there, Harry, and I'm not going to let you ruin your life." I snort in disbelief. 

"If you know me so well, Snape, then why did you and the headmaster feel the need to use some potion form of imperius on me? You could have just asked your _master_ you know. Old Voldemort and you go way back, I hear. Gonna trick me into trusting you and then cart me off to him so that you can be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams or some other such bullshit? You disgust me, Snape. I've never understood why Dumbledore trusts you so much. The man must be blind not to see you for the scum you are." My voice is seething with anger and hatred, and I feel a slight twinge of remorse. I know better than to really think this of Snape, but I want him to leave me alone. I want them all to leave me alone.

"First of all, Harry, I had nothing to do with Albus' decision to use my potion on you. Madame Pomfrey had some in her stores, and she suggested it to the headmaster. It was never intended for use on a student, and I'm sorry that you were exposed to it. As for the rest- you know better, Mr. Potter. I'm quite certain that you know where my loyalties lie, and though we may not care much for each other, we remain on the same side. I am going to leave for a bit, but rest assured this is not over, Potter. I will be back. Don't doubt it, boy, we will get through this, regardless of what you throw at me." 


	4. 4

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: See part one

Author's Notes: Geez, just when I get better, AOL decides to go crazy... I tell ya, someone is conspiring to keep me from finishing this story. This chapter is longer, though, so you still love me, right? Thanks to my reviewers, I love you... Enjoy!

I count the minutes passing in an attempt to stay awake, but it isn't working. Madame Pomfrey has fallen asleep on the chair beside my bed, where she's been keeping watch all day. It occurs to me that this could be used to my advantage, but it appears that there is some sort of enchantment in place to keep me in my bed. As I struggle against my invisible bonds, Snape billows into the room.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. Don't bother fighting, that spell is for your own protection. I'm going to relieve Madame Pomfrey of her duties, and then perhaps we can continue our little chat." Snape appears calm, and resigned to his task. I think he will stay longer this time, he looks quite determined. I sigh. I know, from being in Snape's class for four years that he is nothing if not persistent. It will take a lot to convince him to give up on me.

Snape bends over Madame Pomfrey and gently pats her shoulder. "Poppy... Poppy, wake up..." Madame Pomfrey awakens with a start.

"Severus? What... Oh dear, did I fall asleep? I'm sorry... Is it your shift now?" Madame Pomfrey gets up and shuffles slowly from the room. "Good night, Severus, Harry... Good luck." I'm sure that the last remark was meant for Professor Snape alone.

"Now, Harry, from the look of it, you aren't going to get any more sleep than I am, and to be honest, I'd rather not give you a sleeping potion. So lets talk. No? I don't think you really have a choice, boy, you can't exactly move." Snape looks at me with something bordering pity, and it is the last straw.

"I'm sure that makes you really happy, Snape, to see me tied down here with no chance of escaping. Does it amuse you to see how far I've sunk, not even able to kill myself properly? Do you think its funny to see me struggling against bonds I can't break? Its no different from anything you would have seen last year, if you had been looking properly. No different from anything you would have seen all my life. From the minute I broke Voldemort, I've been tied to this image of hero, and the world became my responsibility. I've done everything I can to make it stop, to make everyone see that it isn't me, but no one is looking, Snape, least of all you. All you see is a pompous, arrogant celebrity. Don't you know that's what I want least in the world? I wish no one knew my name. I wish I could just fade away into the background and never be seen again. And here you are, laughing as I try to do what I'm certain both of us want and just disappear. Why, Snape? Why not just help me, let me die? What does it matter to you?" I pause for air, and curse myself for breaking even this much. It is never advisable to let your guard down, to let other people in. They only leave in the end, and you are left hurt and broken.

"Boy, no matter what you may believe, the last thing I want is to see you disappear. You may not be my favorite student, and I won't pretend any differently, but I wish no ill on you. You have done a lot for the people around you, saved many lives. That is a big burden to place on one so young, and I wish that you could live the rest of your life as nothing more than an ordinary man, but that is not to be. Our world is troubled Harry, and you may be the proverbial light in the darkness. It doesn't matter if you like it or want it, only that you accept it. There are many people who are willing to fight by your side, if you will let them, and that will help stop you from feeling so alone. Ultimately, though, you have to conquer the darkness within yourself before you can conquer Voldemort. And that, my boy, is up to you. I will be here, and I will help you as much as I can, but you have to fight for it, Harry. You have to want it. Accept right now that death is not going to save you, because I won't let that happen. You have to live with who you are and what you have to do, and the only way to do that is to come to terms with your past." Snape looks exhausted, suddenly, and I think it cost him a great deal to speak so kindly to me. "And now, Mr, Potter, I want you to go to sleep. I will give you no sleeping potion tonight, I want you to face your nightmares. And remember, no matter where you are in your dreams, I am right beside you."

I drift slowly off to sleep. I am exhausted, really, but I don't want to deal with this another night. It helps, a bit, that Snape is here, though I can't imagine I will ever admit that to his face. I am ashamed to realize that I want to reach out and take his hand, that I have somehow reached the conclusion that such a simple action would quiet my fears. No matter what he has said to me tonight, this is still Snape, and I don't think that I am quite ready to accept him as my friend. Slowly, conscious thought is drifting away. My hand, despite my best efforts to the contrary, is drifting closer and closer to Snape...

__

Cedric argues with me amiably, trying to be the good guy, as usual. "We'll take it together," I say. The cup is pulling me, its a portkey, and I'm not sure if this is what is supposed to happen or not. Voldemort's voice, in the background now...

"Kill the spare."

No, no, don't do it, not Cedric, take me, its all my fault, I told him to take it with me, why did I tell him to take it, please, not again, don't make him die again, someone save him...

I killed him..... Its all my fault.... I'm crying now, on the ground, staring at Cedric's body. I have a vague idea that this isn't how it really happened, but that doesn't matter now, and I'm staring at Cedric, willing him to move, somehow. Some miracle occurs, and he's moving, but it isn't like I wanted, his mouth is moving but I think he's still dead. He's trying to tell me something....

"Its all your fault, Harry."

Its all my fault.... All my fault.

"Its all my fault!" I'm sitting upright in bed, and the world is beginning to slide back into focus. Snape sits beside me, my hand in his. I wonder idly how that happened, but I'm still stuck in my nightmare. Cedric, looking at me, his face empty, cold and dead, and his lips forming those words. "Its all my fault," I whisper, and Snape draws me towards him comfortingly. He doesn't speak, and I'm grateful. I don't really care to be reminded that it is Snape's arms wrapped around me, silently reminding me of where and when I am. After a few minutes, he begins to gently rub my back, and finally, he speaks.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" His voice is gentle, but commanding, and I know I don't really have a choice.

"It was Cedric. I watched him die again. He told me... He told me it was all my fault. It is my fault. I told him to take the cup with me, and I didn't protect him. It wasn't Cedric that Voldemort was after, it was me. He... Voldemort called Cedric "the spare." If I hadn't convinced Cedric to take the cup with me, he would still be alive. I killed him." At this, Snape pulls me tighter and whispers softly in my ear. I am not sure of the words, but somehow, they calm me all the same. I never pictured Snape this way before, talking to me as though I were his child.

"Harry... It wasn't your fault. If it hadn't been Cedric, it would have been someone else. Voldemort wants to kill, and you can't save everyone. You have already done so much, more than anyone could ask of you. You must not blame yourself... Calm down, child, you will be okay... Go back to sleep, Harry. I will remain here with you." Snape gently lays me back down on the bed and moves away, though he does not release my hand. I know that with him here, my dreams will not return.


	5. 5

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13 for dark themes and some cursing. Rating may, but probably won't, go up.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: More conspiracy, I tell you! This chapter has been finished forever (longest chapter yet, btw), and my computer is dying and won't let me on the internet! GAH! I'm not even sure if I'll be able to post this! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I love you all. For those who asked (since I'm not online I can't check the names... grrr....) this won't be slash, because I'm not sure I could pull that off without it sounding like Snape was taking advantage of Harry while he's vulnerable. But if many people want it, I could do a separate Harry/Sev slash fic, unrelated to this one. It might have to wait until I finish this though, I'm not very good at doing two things at once. Review, my dears, and tell me what you want. Pretty much the only pairing I will flat out refuse to do is Draco/Harry. And anything with a Dursley. Anything else, slash or not, I can work with. Review!!! 

I awaken to the feel of a cool palm in my own. A ring is digging gently into my skin, and I'm grateful for the comfort. I yawn, stretch, and open my eyes. Madame Pomfrey stares back at me. I jump back in surprise, at least as far as these bonds trapping me to the bed will allow.

"Relax, Harry. Severus will return soon, he just stepped out for a little breakfast. I am here simply because he was afraid that his departure would waken you and he felt that you needed your rest." Madame Pomfrey's voice is soft and calming, but I still find myself recoiling from her touch. "Would you like to try to eat something?"

I shake my head vigorously. I don't think that I can stomach anything, and frankly, I don't want to try. "A little juice, at least, Harry? You have to have something." Madame Pomfrey moves to pour a goblet of some orange liquid down my throat and I jump back. I don't know what she has put in that, but I am not risking another potion to make me confide in them. I'd rather dehydrate than take something from her.

"Poppy, perhaps you should step back a bit, I believe you are crowding young Potter." Snape has returned, and I am amazed to find myself relieved at his presence. "Harry, I don't think that there is anything in that goblet other than pumpkin juice. If you like, I will get you something else, and you can watch me pour it. I'll even drink some if it will make you feel better."

I nod my agreement, and Snape moves to get a fresh goblet. Madame Pomfrey looks slightly embarrassed that she didn't even know how to handle her own patient. I can't blame her. I don't suppose that she deals with such troublesome students on a daily basis.

"Harry, will you drink this, please?" Snape hands me a goblet of fresh pumpkin juice that I had just seen him pour. I look at it suspiciously. I have no way of knowing what was in the pumpkin juice before he poured it for me, and I don't want to lose control again. I shake my head slightly, and Snape sighs in disappointment. He leans his back his head and takes a swig of juice from my goblet. "Its fine, Harry, I promise. No one spiked your juice. Please just drink it!" I nod my acceptance warily. If Snape drank from the goblet, there is almost no chance that there is some potion hidden in it. Snape hands over the glass and I drink gratefully.

"See? I told you it was okay. Poppy, if you want to leave now, I'll be here until lunch, at least. Albus said he might stop by later to check on Harry. Why don't you go enjoy your vacation?" I wince at Snape's words. I am keeping these teachers tied up when they should be out enjoying the summer holidays. I shouldn't be their responsibility now. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why I am. The last thing that I remember is the knife flying from my hands, and I'm a bit confused about who took it and how I got back to Hogwarts. As Madame Pomfrey leaves the room, pausing briefly to fuss at my bedside, Snape comes and sits next to me.

"How are you today, Harry? Any nightmares after I left this morning?" Snape looks genuinely concerned, and I'm more than a bit surprised. Even after the kindness he showed last night, it is difficult to see Snape in this light, as a caring, concerned person. It is difficult to stop thinking of him as the enemy, and even now, in the back of my mind, I am questioning his motives in helping me. Perhaps he feels it will win him some favor with Dumbledore. Dumbledore... I'm not sure what to think of the man anymore. Before he force-fed me that potion, I would have told you that he was the greatest man alive, perhaps to ever live. But now... Well, I'd rather spend my time with Snape. Snape, it appears, understands how I feel. Dumbledore wants to, wants to a bit too much, perhaps, and it made him do something so incredibly stupid that I'm really not sure if I should trust him anymore. It is a big issue for me, control, and I don't like being knocked out of control of my own mind, feeling someone or something else in there, prying around, and being unable to resist it. It terrifies me, and I can't believe that Dumbledore was ignorant enough to make that kind of a mistake. I don't want to see him today. I don't want him to try and make me talk to him, and to know that I'm failing again when I refuse. I don't want to see how hurt he is when he realizes that I don't trust him. I am barely managing as it is, I don't think I can deal with the added guilt.

"Harry? Talk to me, boy, why do you look so disturbed?" Snape places a gentle hand on my arm, and I immediately back away. Last night, I needed the comfort of another human being to hold on to. Now, I'm not sure who to trust, and the confusion is making me retreat back into myself. I don't want any contact with Snape until I know for certain that he is here simply because he is concerned. I don't even want to talk to him, or to anyone else. All I really want is to curl up into a ball and go back to sleep. Maybe never wake up. I don't particularly want to die, I just want this all to end. If I could just sleep forever, I would be happy. I have no objections to life in general, merely to the particulars of life, the talking and the laughing and pretending always that there is nothing wrong with me. I hate being trapped in a life I know is not really for me, being put on this pedestal that I don't deserve and hearing compliments from people who have somehow managed to convince themselves that I am more than I am. I hate having to accept their compliments as if I agree. I want to scream at them to look a little deeper, see all the imperfections. I'm not a god; I'm not even a mediocre person. I am nothing, and I want a world of nothing, too. A nice see of blackness to sink into, silence, emptiness, and then me, melting in to it, and becoming it. I certainly see no opportunities for such an existence in life, I thought perhaps in death, there would be. It appears I won't be finding out anytime soon.

"Who took the knife from me?" I'm aware that I haven't answered Snape's previous questions, but it seems important that I ask this one of my own.

"I did, Harry. There are alarms, of a sort, set up, on you and around the Dursley's home. All of the teachers helped to set them up, much like the obstacles protecting the sorcerer's stone. When a teacher's alarm is tripped, that teacher is alerted. Dumbledore would have preferred to have been notified directly if something were happening, but the spells only work for whomever casts them, and he wanted spells cast in all areas of potential danger. When you were a child, playing alone in the backyard, no more than 3, you attempted to eat some poisonous plant or another. It tripped Professor Sprout's alarm, and she rushed to save you. Obviously, she was successful. Dumbledore covered the big things, Voldemort and Deatheaters, fires, earthquakes, tornados, whatever he could think of. Even Madame Pomfrey did something, I believe a certain amount of blood loss triggers her alarm. Although perhaps not, I seem to recall it covering internal bleeding as well.... In any case, I did what was expected of me, protecting you from dangerous potions, although I saw little danger in that, since you were living with a muggle family. But I also put up an alarm to warn me of suicide and self-inflicted injuries. Poppy's alarm failed to notify her of the danger you were in because the wound was self-inflicted. It did not occur to her that you would ever seek to harm yourself, so she put an exception in her alarm so that it would not be tripped when you cut yourself to become blood brothers with a friend or some other such nonsense. I thought, however, that you were destined to lead a rather difficult life, and I wanted to be able to protect you from yourself, should the need arise. When my alarm was tripped, I grabbed my broom and flew into Hogsmeade, then apparated as close to the Dursley's home as the apparition wards allow. I was afraid that I would be too late. I was fortunate that I was not."

Fortunate. That's not quite the word I would use, but I imagine Snape knows that already. "If Dumbledore put up protection against Deatheaters, how did you get into the Dursley's house?" I inquire, perhaps a bit nastily.

"Albus put exceptions into the spells for me. He was quite meticulous in his planning." Snape's response is a bit stiff and I almost feel sorry for him. One mistake in his past and he will be paying all of his life. He doesn't deserve it. He has paid his dues time and time again. I wish I was brave enough to stay here and pay mine, but all I want to do is disappear. "Harry, I've answered your questions, now it's your turn to answer mine. You were okay when I left last night, but this morning, something is wrong. Don't try to pretend differently, I can see it in your eyes. Something is bothering you. What is it?"

I sigh, perhaps a bit dramatically. I really don't want to talk to Snape, but he has told me everything I wanted to know with a patience I didn't think possible from him. It is only fair that I give him at least this much. "I just don't want to see Dumbledore. You told Madame Pomfrey that he might be coming by and I don't want to deal with him right now. He wants me to talk to him, and I don't want to."

"You don't want to talk to me, either, child, but you don't react nearly as strongly when I enter the room as you did to just Dumbledore's name. Why?"

I hesitate. Telling Snape that I don't want to see Dumbledore is one thing. Confiding in him about why is quite another. I don't really want to talk to him, and he knows it, but he is still here, trying. I can't shake the feeling that I owe him, I owe everyone, and if I can begin repaying that debt just by talking, it's my duty to do it.

"You... You understand, I guess. At least, it seems like you do. Dumbledore doesn't. Dumbledore has never thought about what it would be like to simply cease to exist. He sees the good, and he sees the bad, and its all black and white for him. He knows who to fight and who to trust and he never falters, in anything that he does. And I don't know those things, and nothing is clear cut for me, and he just doesn't get it. He sees the right thing to do for me is to make me talk through my problems, and he is going to do whatever it takes to make me do it. Its for my own good, I'll thank him for it later. Maybe that's true, but right now, it is upsetting me and worrying me and shaking my trust in him, the one person I thought I could trust unconditionally, and its just making everything worse. Everything is so muddled for me, and I'm not really sure who the good guys are anymore. I don't want to talk to him until I know what he wants."

Snape looks at me thoughtfully, and then turns slightly away. When he speaks, his voice is soft and kind, and I know I'm talking to the same Snape I saw last night, and not to the man who's potions class I've been going to all these years. "Harry, I do understand how you feel, because I've been there myself, time and time again. I even understand how you feel about Albus. When I was a young man, a bit younger than you, I found myself on the brink, and there was Albus Dumbledore, pulling me back. He was too forceful, he didn't understand, all he wanted to do was make me talk to him. I learned later, to appreciate what he did for me, but at the time, I felt much like you do now. Look, Harry, I'll talk to Albus, try to make him see that his way isn't necessarily the best way to deal with your situation. I can't promise anything, but I can try and make him see that perhaps he should hold off on the visits for awhile. That potion incident, it really shook you up, didn't it?" I nod forcefully. Snape gives me a gentle smile in return. "You have to realize, though, that I can't work miracles. You are going to have to have a constant babysitter for awhile, and the bonds may have to stay on your bed. I'll see what I can do about getting you moved somewhere more comfortable, though, and maybe getting you some entertainment. I'm going to go talk to Albus, I'll be back shortly."

Snape walked calmly from the room, and I found myself smiling at his retreating form. It's the first time I've smiled in months, and I can hardly believe that it was in response to Snape. He isn't the man that I thought he was. 


	6. 6

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Okay, I don't know if I like this chapter or not, but I'm posting it anyway. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. MORE REVIEWS!

I've been laying motionless on this same bed for nearly forty-five minutes. Snape sent Madame Pomfrey back into the room when he left, and she has made some feeble attempts to talk to me. Thus far, I have refused to respond. I know I am frustrating her, and I honestly regret that, but I don't have the kind of energy it takes to carry on a conversation with her. I can't pretend anymore, it just takes too much out of me. She has mostly remained in the distance, watching carefully, but not really trying to invade my space. She was rather forceful, however, that I eat something, and I found myself unable to fight her. I ate a whole bowl of soup and two pieces of buttered bread before she was satisfied. I had to fight the urge to throw up afterwards. My body is no longer used to having so much food at once.

Snape returns to the room with a slightly frightening expression on his face, and I gather that the conversation with Dumbledore did not go well. He ushers Madame Pomfrey out of the room with none of his earlier politeness and storms angrily to the chair by my bedside. He looks at my expectant face and mutters something under his breath about insufferable old fools who don't know as much as they think. At this point I am terrified. For all I know, Dumbledore has ordered that I be sent to St. Mungos.

"Harry... You are aware, I assume, that Dumbledore is in constant contact with your godfather?" I nod my head impatiently. I wish Snape would get to the point. "Well, as soon as I brought you back here, Dumbledore wrote to Sirius. As he should, have I guess. He had no way of knowing Sirius's reaction. Anyway, Sirius has ordered that you be removed from the Dursley's care permanently and sent immediatly to live with Remus Lupin. The letter arrived today, Dumbledore was apparently on his way down here to tell you when I went to meet with him. Dumbledore... Dumbledore seems to think that Lupin will be able to take better care of you than I, and as soon as the appropriate wards are placed around his home, you are to be sent there. I tried... I tried to tell him that it might not be the best idea, but he wouldn't listen. I suppose.... I suppose you will be happier there, anyway." Snape's tone has gone from angry to defeated, and I am still struggling to digest everything he said.

"But... But I can't go there. Does he want me to leave? I can go back to the Dursley's if I have to, I don't want to be a burden on him. But I can't go to Lupin's. He... He won't understand and I'll have to pretend, and I can't pretend anymore, Professor, I just can't. I can't go stay with him...." I'm crying now, and I swipe angrily at the tears pouring down my face. I'm not even entirely sure why I'm crying, I just know that Sirius is making a mistake and Dumbledore is making a bigger one by listening to him. Snape looks uncertain about how to comfort me, when he knows that he can't stop this from happening. Nevertheless, he comes to sit beside me on the bed, and this time, I am the one who pulls him into a hug, burying my face into his shoulder. Snape allows me to stay like that for a few minutes, and then he pulls back.

"Dumbledore is coming down here to talk to you. I couldn't convince him not to. I'm afraid I got a bit... distraught, and began to yell at him. Apparently, he finds it difficult to take me seriously when I am yelling. I will make myself scarce while he is here, but if you need me, I will be within yelling distance. I don't imagine the conversation will get so upsetting as that, but just in case... Ah, here comes Albus now. Good luck, Harry." Snape gives me one last hug, and then slides past Dumbledore and out of the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. I see that Severus has told you the news. Are you unhappy with the prospect of leaving Hogwarts?" I stare back stonily and refuse to respond. I should think the answer to his question is fairly obvious from my tear-stained face. "But why, child? I was under the impression that you and Mr. Lupin got along quite well. I thought he might be someone you could confide in." I nearly laugh out loud at this.

"Snape is someone I can confide in. He doesn't try to force it. You just don't get it. Lupin won't either. I don't want to go. I want to stay here, with Snape. I don't have to pretend with him. I need that. Please... Please let me stay." Dumbledore looks slightly taken aback that I actually responded, and to be honest, I'm a bit surprised myself. Dumbledore's mouth hangs open for a moment, and it occurs to me that he has probably never been told that Snape is better equipped to handle a student than he is, and he probably doesn't appreciate the thought.

"Harry, Sirius is, as far as I am concerned, your legal guardian. He requested that I do what he thinks is in your best interest. I am sure that if I told him not to, he would agree not to remove you from the school. But I am not sure that I entirely sure that I understand your reasoning, nor am I certain that your thinking is... clear at this time. You must understand why I fear that your logic might be a bit distorted." Dumbledore is trying to be as kind as possible, but I am getting frustrated and angry.

"You can't kick me out! Please, just tell Sirius I don't want to leave. Tell him I'm trying, tell him I can get better here. This is the best place for me, Professor, don't you see that? Lupin can't watch me constantly, like you want. He can't make sure that I don't do it again. But Professor Snape can. He... Professor Snape hasn't tried to force me to do anything, he isn't forcing me to get better, and I think that's why its easier to talk to him. Sir, I'm sure Professor Snape told you that I didn't want to see you today. Its because of the potion. I can't deal with being forced into things right now, and thats what you wanna do, and what Sirius would want to do, and Lupin, if I didn't convince him that I was okay, which is what I'd try first. It won't help me, sir, it'll just keep getting worse."

Dumbledore looks at me, and I am amazed to see that he is slightly ashamed. "Mr. Potter, giving you that potion was a mistake. I realize that my doing so has changed the way that you view me, and that perhaps you no longer feel you can trust me, but I want you to know that I will always do what I think is in your best interest. Sometimes I am wrong, as I so clearly was with the potion, but I will never intentionally harm you. If you truly feel that Professor Snape is what you need to work through your current emotions, then that is what I will tell Sirius when I respond. Severus has been harsh to you over the years, and I must admit to some surprise when you decided you would rather confide in him then me, but he can offer you an understanding that I don't think I could. Please remember, though, that whether I fully understand your problems or not, I am always willing to listen to them."

I nod slightly and Dumbledore bids me good-bye, sending Madame Pomfrey in as he leaves and taking Professor Snape to his office for further conversation. I wonder if he will merely repeat the conversation he and I had here or if there is something further he wishes to discuss. 


	7. 7

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long. You can thank Amber, who emailed to nag, for having this chapter up now. This chapters pretty long, though, and thats good, right? Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. 

Sometimes I wonder if I have any control at all over my life. Dumbledore decides who I live with, where I stay, even who my legal guardian should be. My professors discuss my life with each other, ask each other just what they should do to keep me safe. Even the Fudge apparently thinks its his duty to keep me safe. I wonder how long it would take them to track me down if I ran away. I assume they have some sort of precautionary spell on me, a locator or some such nonsense. It doesn't seem like they would waste all their efforts on the off chance that I might feel a bit... smothered, and walk away. Even Dumbledore isn't crazy enough to trust me that much. Still... Its hard to forget that they are only trying to look out for me, or the image they have of me. Its hard to forget that it is my fault that they have to focus all this extra energy on keeping me safe. I wonder what Madame Pomfrey would be doing if I hadn't showed up to disrupt her summer. I wonder if she has a summer house, somewhere near a beach. There are probably children or grandchildren somewhere in the picture, I can't imagine Madame Pomfrey enjoying months with no little ones around her. She enjoys caring for people, that much is obvious. But why must she waste her time caring for me? I'm sure she has better ways to spend her time.

And Snape... It is difficult to imagine him having any plans at all over the summer, but I rather imagine he prefers it that way. He probably shuts himself up in the dungeons with a big stack of potions books and spends his time brewing the most difficult potions he can find, playing with them, experimenting and creating new things to test. I imagine that he delights in this, in manipulating the ingredients to his will. I am certain that he enjoys the calculations, how predictable potions can be, how easy it is to guess how each ingredient will interact with the others. I know he would love the surprises, when the ingredients mix in a way he never guessed. I picture him grinning in delight as he sits down to retrace his steps, to concentrate on the temperature, the order the ingredients were put in, anything to account for the unexpected result. What time does he have for this now? Since he came to the Dursley's to get me, nearly every moment has been spent by my side. I can't imagine that staring at a suicidal teenager holds quite the same joy for him as brewing some exotic potion.

Even Dumbledore must have ad some plans... I seem to remember him mentioning something about a brother, at one point, and he may have other family. Besides, Dumbledore is always busy with something. I suppose right now, he is doing all he can to orchestrate a defense against Voldemort. I hope with all my heart that I do nothing to distract him from that cause. Sirius.... I know he will be thinking of me. What if I distract him? One minute of carelessness and he could be in the hands of dementors or deatheaters. It will undoubtedly be my fault if he gets hurt. I can't hurt anyone else. I already killed Cedric. What right do I have to be here, taking and taking from these wonderful people? What does it matter in the end if I live or die, as long as these people are unharmed? I can't do this anymore. I can't sit here and watch Madame Pomfrey drain herself of energy trying to care for me, or see Snape trying so hard to turn into this kind, loving man for my benefit. He needs his strength for other things, bigger things. They all do.

"Madame Pomfrey?" I ask, my voice soft and hesitant. It is difficult for me to speak to her, but she seems to view it as an improvement, nearly leaping from her chair in her rush to reach my bedside. "I need to use the bathroom. Please, could you let me up?"

She looks at me, clearly torn. "Harry... I'm not sure thats a good idea. Perhaps you should wait until Professor Snape returns, he can take you. I don't think you should be walking around unsupervised."

"Please, Madame Pomfrey, its an emergency. I'll come right back, I promise. Please?" I can see it in her face as she relents. She raises her wand and points it towards my bed, then hesitates for a second.

"You will use the bathroom in here, mind you. And its straight there, straight back. Got it?" I nod my assent, and in seconds, the bonds holding me to the bed have disappeared. I stand carefully, stretching my limbs, then make a dash for the door. Madame Pomfrey tries to stun me, I think, I don't quite catch the words of the spell. But I know it is coming and dodge it, running into the hall. I think I will run to the passage into Hogsmeade, and from there, I should be able to lose them in the crowd long enough to get away, find someplace I can use floo powder. Long enough to find my way to Knockturn Alley, where I have no doubt that the potions store will have something a little quicker and more effective than watching myself bleed. I am so lost in planning my escape, that I am barely paying attention. I gasp in surprise when a strong, black-clothed arm reaches out and grabs me by the neck of my hospital issue pajamas.

"Where exactly do you think you are going, Mr. Potter? And how on earth did you get out of that bed?" Snape's voice is low, growling and I am actually a bit frightened. I try to pull back, my legs shaking. Snape grabs my shoulders firmly and spins me around so that I am facing him. "Harry..." he says and his voice is softer now. "Harry, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise you that. But you need to come with me. I know this is hard for you, but you have to trust me. Come on, we have to let Madame Pomfrey know that you are alright. Then, you are going to come with me, to the dungeons. I have a bed set up for you in my room. The headmaster agrees with me, that you will be much more comfortable there. But first, we have to see Poppy. I'm sure you gave her quite a scare, running off like that." My legs are still trembling in fright, but Snape's words have calmed me a little. I don't know why I allow myself to get so scared, when I know that Snape would never hurt me. Still... I take a few shaky steps forward and Professor Snape holds my arms tightly. "Harry, are you alright?" Snape looks at me in concern. I begin to nod, but my legs give out from under me, and Snape catches me quickly. He lifts me and carries me to the side of the hallway, and sits down on the floor next to me. 

"Come on, now, Harry, its okay. Why were you running, Harry?" Snape turns to me, one hand still gripping my arm to make sure I don't run again. As if I could in this state. I don't want to explain it to Snape, I am certain he already understands what a burden I am, and now he is taking on even more responsibility for me. I don't want him to do this. I don't want him to take care of me, as though I was worth his time. I'm not. I know I'm not. But I want this, I want someone willing to chase me down the halls ,and take me into their arms when I'm frightened. I don't want to be disappointed again. Its easy to convince yourself that you are loved, and then you find out all over again that you aren't worthy. I can't do that again. I can't let myself believe that Snape knows me, or understands me. Even if he did care whether I live or die, he's probably got the same romanticized image of me that everyone else has. The Boy Who Lived. Thats not who I am. I'll never be that person. And no one knows.... No one knows who I really am. I don't think they want to know. What does it matter? They all leave in the end anyway.

Lost in my reverie, I am startled to find tears falling down my face. Snape pulls me close once more, wraps his arms around me and lets me cry. No one has ever done that for me before, and it only makes me cry harder, to think that this poor man is deluded enough to think that I am someone worth comforting. But Snape does not pull away, like I expect him to. I am vaguely aware, after a few minutes, of someone else walking past us, and Snape looks up.

"Albus? Can you please go tell Madame Pomfrey that I've got Harry? He ran off, I think, and she will be worried. And in a moment, I think I'll take him down to his new room, if thats okay." I don't look up, but I assume that Dumbledore nods. In any case, I hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.

"Harry? Harry, come on now, you will be much more comfortable downstairs. Lets go down and have some lunch, and maybe we can talk a bit, alright? Come on, child, its okay now..." Snape is gently rubbing my back, and his voice is nothing like the cold, threatening tone he takes in class. He pulls away from me slowly, and helps me to stand. Neither of us speak as we walk down to the dungeons, but he holds on to my hand as though I were no more than five. At another time, it may have seemed demeaning or embarrassing, but right now, that hand is anchoring me to reality, and I need it. I tighten my grip just enough to let Snape know not to let go, and he squeezes my hand in return.

Snape finally stops in front of a rather large painting on the dungeon wall. The illustration is quite disturbing, a man clearly about to be swallowed whole by a snake, but the man in the picture doesn't seem at all disturbed when he turns to Snape. "Well, hello there, Severus! Brought a friend with you today, have you? Password, please!" Snape rolls his eyes at this overt show of cheerfulness and mutters the password under his breath. "A bit louder, please, Severus, I didn't quite catch that!" The man in the illustration is grinning so widely now that I am tempted to smile back. I refrain, however, because I can't quite tear my eyes away from the snake in the background of the picture.

"I said, emerald visions!" Snape declared loudly. Both Snape and I step back expectantly, and the portrait swings forward.

"In you go, then! I'll see you later Severus!" Snape once again mutters something under his breath and pulls me in to the room.

"Just like Albus to give me the most insufferably cheerful painting in the whole castle. Come on in, then, Harry, let me show you around" The room I enter is not at all what I expected. The walls are bare rock, like the rest of the dungeon, but candles are mounted on them and the glow from the fireplace give them a comfortable feel. There are a few plush chairs situated by the fireplace, which is flanked by bookcases. A small chess table sits on one side of the room, and a table already heavily piled with dishes for our lunch is on the other. At the back of the room, two doorways lead out, presumably to Snape's bedroom and mine. The bathroom is off to one side.

"Less green then I expected." I comment dryly. Snape smiles, a real smile, something I didn't expect from him.

"I didn't exactly choose the Slytherin colors myself, Mr. Potter, and I'm not actually a fan of green. I prefer blue, but that doesn't quite fit the Slytherin house as a whole. Come on, lets have lunch." I nod and follow Snape to the table. Nothing has been separated on to plates yet, and I'm quite sure Snape gave those instructions himself. Everything he gives me, he makes sure I see him putting on his own plate. He makes sure to put a reasonable amount of food on my plate and insists that I eat everything he puts before me. It is difficult, but I know that Snape won't let me up until I finish. He nods approvingly when my plate is clean and guides me to a seat by the fire.

"Harry... Why did you run today? Now, don't start crying again, I know you don't want to talk about this and I know you don't want to deal with it, but we have to. If you won't let me help you, I'll have no choice but to send you back to Madame Pomfrey and tell the headmaster that I am unable to help you. I think neither of us want that." I nod briefly and then begin to speak.

"I... I was thinking about what an inconvenience it must be, to have me here. I interrupted everyone's vacation, and its useless, you know, to waste your time on me. I'm just... I'm not worth your time. I just hurt everyone. Its my fault, you know, and I don't want to hurt anyone else, and I thought maybe if I could just make it to Hogsmeade, I could find someone willing to let me use their fireplace, and then I could go to Knockturn Alley, and if I got to Knockturn Alley, I was pretty sure I could... I could find something, a potion, really quick and effective, and then no one would have to worry about me anymore." Snape sighs and looks straight at me.

"Harry. It is not a waste of my time, or anyone else's, to help you. It is not your fault that Cedric died, it isn't your fault when people get hurt. I want to help you. I want to make sure that you get through this, and that you will be okay. It isn't a burden on me. It is not something I would do if I felt that it were a burden, because there are many people willing to take care of you. Harry, there are people who love you, who it would hurt tremendously if you died. You go out of your way not to cause any harm, but have you thought of how much it would hurt the Weasleys, for instance, to know that you took your own life?"

"They don't love me... They just think they do, everyone does. They just... They put me on a pedestal, like I'm some kind of hero, and I'm not, and it isn't me. I'm not the person they love. What about when they find out? What happens when they realize that I'm not the person they think I am? They'll be so disappointed, and they won't like the real me. They only like the Boy Who Lived, Professor, and that isn't me!" Talking to Snape like this, combined with the exhaustion of my earlier crying fit, has worn me out. As I slip into oblivion, I feel strong arms lifting me up and carrying me into a soft, comfortable bed. 

"Good night, Harry" I hear Snape whisper, and then darkness comes. 


	8. 8

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and an extra special thanks to the people who have been reviewing every chapter. Ummm, lets see- Indiana Jones, I think you were the one who said that Harry was a bit OOC in the last chapter? I think... Anyway, I suppose he may have seemed that way, but I'm drawing on how I perceive Harry from the books, and then my own experiences with depression and how it can change a person. I think it is impossible to leave Harry exactly like he was in the fourth book, because seeing what he saw will have an inevitable effect on his psyche. Thanks for the advice, though, and I'll try to keep Harry more in character. Now, who else... Ah, KH- you suggested a Harry/Sev slash. Well, as you can see, I'm not doing to well updating this story regularly, but since you asked so nicely, I will start a HP/SS slash. Just don't expect it any time too soon, okay? Okay, once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. 

I wake to find myself wrapped tightly in a tangle of blankets, the pressure of them weighing comfortably on my back. Snape sits in a chair across from the bed, watching me.

"Good morning, Harry." Snape greets me.

"Professor." I answer softly. "I... Thanks. For last night, I mean. I'm not used to having someone listen to me like that. I appreciate it."

Snape just smiles at me, which startles me so much I don't think I would have heard him if he'd bothered to reply. This is the second time this summer I've seen a real smile on the man's face, and the effect is startling. He looks less... well, tired, and I think it must take a lot out of him to keep up what I am now certain is simply a mask of anger and bitterness all year. There is more to Snape than I ever saw, or ever tried to see, really, and now, he is offering me a glimpse at who he really is. And to my surprise, I find I actually want to know. I want to know the man who is helping to put me back on my feet. He has been making an attempt to get to know me, and I haven't seen any judgment in his eyes. I want to offer him the same chance he is giving me.

"Harry? Harry!" Snape's voice pulls me out of my reverie and when I look up, his face shows real, genuine concern.

"Sorry, Professor. I just got a little lost in my thoughts. What were you saying?" The concern doesn't leave his face, but Snape lets the matter drop.

"Breakfast, Harry. Why don't you get up and get changed so that we can go get some breakfast?" I nod and slip out of the big bed. Snape nods towards a far door. "Bathroom is through there, and there are some clothes for you in the armoire over there. I'll wait here while you get changed." I nod, hiding my surprise at the amount of freedom Snape offered me. After being trapped in the hospital wing under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, it is a delight to be left alone even long enough to change my clothes. I walk over to the large, ornate armoire and open it to find a row of brand new robes in my size. I look questioningly back at Snape.

"Albus thought it silly to make you wear your student robes or those horrible muggle clothes your aunt and uncle give you all summer. He said to consider those-" Here Snape waved an indifferent arm in my general direction, "a gift. Said he would take it as a personal insult if you didn't accept them." I almost grin. Trust Dumbledore to make it sound like it was a crime not to accept his generosity. Turning back to the armoire, I finger each robe gently, letting the cool material slip softly through my fingers. Finally, I select one that I'm pretty sure is silk, a deep, plum colored robe with wide arms and cloth ties down the front, rather than the brass fastenings that adorn my school robes. The light material will be a welcome change, I think, and I quickly select some undergarments and head into the bathroom.

The spacious bathroom has a bathtub almost as large as the one in the prefect's bathroom, and the comparison sends a shock of sadness through me. I sigh heavily, and fill the tub. The aroma of lavender fills the room, and I amuse myself with the thought of the rigid and angry Snape I see during potions selecting such a gentle, almost feminine scent. No, the man I am seeing now is quite different from the one I've seen in the past.

As I slip into the foaming water, the heat releases tension in my muscles that I hadn't noticed in a long time. I don't think that stress has left me since Cedric died, and it is odd to feel the muscles in my shoulders and neck relaxing. The heat of the water is incredibly comfortable, and though I can't help but think about what it would be like to stick my head under the water and breathe it in deeply, it is more of an automatic response to where I am, then any concrete plan. I have no intention of killing myself this morning, and that thought is surprising too. How long has it been since I could honestly say that I had no plans for escape? Yet here I am, a few days in Snape's care, and I am beginning to remember what it means to be alive. 

When I finally exit the bathroom, Snape is sitting calmly exactly where I left him. He smiles at me as I walk towards him, as if some question has been answered. It occurs to me that there is simply no way that Snape did not consider the possibility of me drowning myself in his bathtub. Rather than being angry at being tested, I find myself smiling nervously back at the professor. He stands and puts a hand on my shoulder, and I think the move startled him just as much as it did me. He doesn't remove his hand, however, and id still smiling as he begins to speak.

"Breakfast in the great hall, today, Harry?" I know he wants me to agree, though he will remain here if I ask. I am a bit nervous about facing the other teachers, but Snape will be there, and I'm quite certain that everyone has been told not to question me. Perhaps they won't even know why I'm at Hogwarts. I nod at Snape, and he grins, not just a smile, but a real grin. Now there is an expression I never expected to see on that man's face. Sanpe does not appear to realize how odd his facial expression is, however, and simply begins to steer me out of the room.

When we get to the great hall, Professor Dumbledore is involved in an animated conversation with Professor Flitwick, who seems to be squeaking a great deal more than actually forming words. Professor McGonogall is there, which surprises me. I'd assumed that if she had been in the castle, she would have come to see me with Professor Dumbledore. Perhaps she just arrived, or maybe Snape asked her not to come. In any case, I'm glad I didn't have to deal with her until now. She is preoccupied, at the moment, with staring angrily at Professor Trelawney, who apparently found time to leave her tea leaves and crystal ball to come have a bit of breakfast. Professor Trelawney is blissfully unaware of the look of utter contempt being sent towards her and is crunching merrily on a bit of bacon. Hagrid is missing, which doesn't surprise me. Had he been in the castle, I've no doubt he would have barreled his way past even Dumbledore to get to me.

Snape and I make our way towards the table, and he chooses two seats for us. He is next to Dumbledore, of course, and I am between him and Professor Trelawney. Snape piles food on to my plate, while the other professors look on with mild curiosity. I keep my head focused on the table in front of me, and try to convince myself the Professor Trelawney is not looking at me with the same intense and questioning stare she uses on her crystal ball. "Eat it all, Harry," Snape mutters to me softly. I nod and begin to eat silently. Professor Dumbledore gives me a small wink, and then resumes his conversation with Professor Flitwick rather loudly, and all of the other professors seem to take the hint. Professor Snape, it seems, does not associate with his fellow professors. I'm not surprised, but I really don't want to sit through an entire meal being gawked at and having absolutely nothing to distract me.

"Professor?" I ask quietly. Snape looks at me with some surprise. I don't think he expected me to recognize his presence in front of anyone else. "What are our plans today, sir? I mean, are we just going to sit around in your rooms all day? Because to tell you the truth, sir, I don't really think that giving me so much time to think is a good idea." Snape smiles at my admission.

"I was beginning to think along those lines myself, Harry. Perhaps a trip to Hgsmeade, if you're up to it? Or if you prefer, we can find something to do around the castle.... Less people." Snape is speaking softly, and I notice Professor Trelawney leaning in very close to me, clearly trying to hear what is going on. I resist the urge to laugh at her, and return my focus to Professor Snape.

"Maybe... Hogsmeade would be nice, Professor, but not for too long, please." It is a strange feeling, being able to see exactly what I need. Should I be able to look at myself like this, as if my depression is an entirely separate entity? In any case, I want the chance to leave the castle for a few hours, a chance to move around and breathe in some fresh air. I want to have a conversation about anything other than my own state of mind. Professor Snape seems to realize this, and turns to Professor Dumbledore to alert him to our outing. Twenty minutes later, Snape and I stand at the doors to the castle, about to venture out into public for the first time in far too long. 


	9. 9

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13 for dark themes and some cursing. Rating may, but probably won't, go up.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Well, you finally get your Snape background story. I am sorry it took so long, but I thought Snape and Harry needed to build up a little trust before Snape told his life story. Umm, once again, thanks to my reviewers. Bill Weasley- I don't publish chapters based on how many reviews I get, they are published when I finish them. Nor is the story difficult to write. The problem is simply finding the time to sit down and finish a chapter. Again, I apologize for making people wait between chapters, but I have to put school first.

The streets of Hogsmeade are crowded with small children and gangs of teenagers stand on the street corners, occasionally yelling out to their younger siblings not to get in trouble, not to get dirty, not to do anything they might end up getting blamed for. A few of the children I've seen around school, but I am grateful to find that none of my friends are there, no one I would feel obligated to talk to. Snape leads us around the animated games of hopscotch and jump rope, glaring so ferociously at the young girls and boys that they practically leap out of our path. I manage a reassuring smile or two, and mouth to one particularly frightened girl that Snape is "sweet as a kitten." She giggles a bit, and Snape looks at me suspiciously. I like small children. They don't make the kind of snap judgments I'm so used to seeing adults make, and they look up to me only because I'm older, and theoretically wiser. They have no understanding of Voldemort and they don't characterize me by the scar on my forehead. Little children have a simplistic, black-and-white view of the world. They know what is right and they know what is wrong. For them, there is no area in between. I envy them that.

Snape leads us to the door of the local potions shop. He pulls the door open and motions me inside. The shop is cool, and there are less people there. I'm not surprised. I can't imagine that many of the children I saw outside enjoy making potions over the break. In fact, the only person I can imagine enjoying making potions at all is Professor Snape. He leads me down an aisle filled completely with jars of eyes. Salamander eyes, rabbit eyes, I even note jars of cat eyes, divided by breed. I am beginning to feel more than a little nauseated, and Snape is, quite plainly, laughing at my reaction. I swear he intentionally took me down that aisle just to see if it would make me sick.

Finally, Snape pauses in front of a row of powdered ingredients. He reaches forward almost automatically, pulling out jars with barely a glimpse at their label. "Sir?" I ask timidly. It still makes me uncomfortable, to speak to Snape as if he cares what I have to say. "What do you need all that stuff for?" Snape smiles, that smile that he gets right before he takes fifty points away from Gryffindor.

"I'm going to tutor you, Mr. Potter. You and I both need something to do for the remainder of the summer, and while this little foray proved an excellent distraction, we need something a bit more regular to occupy our time." I very nearly groaned out loud. Being tutored by Snape was not the best way I could think of to spend my time. Still, it was better than sitting around waiting for Snape to begin another one of our heart-to-heart chats. Besides, Professor Snape was volunteering to spend his summer teaching me skills I would very likely need to pass his class when the new term began. It would be foolish of me to whine.

"Well... I umm... I am very grateful that you... That you'll give up your time... To, you know, help me." I struggle to get out my thanks, and I see Snape's eyes crinkle in an expression of obvious amusement.

"Relax, Harry, you will still have time to yourself. I just don't want you to sit around and mope all summer. Having nothing to occupy your time allows you to think, and over-thinking anything is bound to cause problems." I smile back at Snape, his complete reversal in attitude still kind of a shock to me. "Come on, Harry, lets get out of here. We can go get a drink at a little pub around the corner. Not nearly as nice as the Three Broomsticks, but far more quiet." I tacitly agree, and Snape walks to the front to hand his purchases over to an eccentric little man, with the instruction to deliver them to Hogwarts and charge them to his account. I feel a twinge of guilt upon realizing that Snape has taken money from his own account to pay for potions ingredients that I will need, but I have no time to focus on the matter, as Snape is nudging me out of the shop and back onto the bustling streets. 

Approaching the small pub that Snape described simply as "not nearly as nice as the Three Broomsticks," I am amazed at the man's talent for understatement. The pub, whose name I cannot decipher from the rotten and filthy sign, looks like it has been deserted for quite some time. The windows are cracked and covered in dust, and the front door is hanging off of its hinges. There are rats crawling about unashamedly outside of the building, and the path to the door is overgrown with weeds. Snape does not appear at all disturbed by the appearance, however, and leads me inside.

As soon as we walk in, the atmosphere changes. Dim lighting illuminates cushioned chairs and deep mahogany tables. At the bar, a plump woman is having an animated conversation with the stately-looking bartender. Snape leads me to a table in the corner, and the bartender immediately detaches himself from the overzealous woman and comes to take our order. Snape orders butterbeers for both of us, and the bartender leaves us with a curt, "Very well, sir." As we sit back to await our drinks, I turn to Professor Snape.

"This place is really very nice, sir. I can't imagine why they don't clean up the outside a bit, they must not get very many customers with it looking that way." I am speaking just for the sake of conversation, but Snape doesn't seem to mind.

"I quite imagine that is the idea, Mr. Potter. This pub has a small, but very dedicated clientele. They make enough money to stay in business, but have few enough customers that they can offer privacy. People come here to conduct business in quiet, or simply to escape the noise of the outside world. I often come in here when I need a break from playing babysitter." I nod briefly. It makes sense, I suppose, and I'm grateful that Snape showed me this place. It would be good to have somewhere to go and be by myself on Hogsmeade weekends. It wouldn't be hard, to make up some excuse for Ron and Hermione, and sneak away. I shouldn't think so lightly about lying to my friends, but I can't really see them understanding the truth. Ron, especially, would think I was trying to escape him, and would be horribly offended.

"Professor? Can I ask you something?" Snape nods, though a bit hesitantly. "Why... I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why... Why did become so nice? I mean... Sorry..." I break off, embarrassed. Snape leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table nervously. He does not look surprised at my question.

"Look, Harry, I've been expecting you to ask me that, and to tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure how to answer unless... Well, unless I tell you a lot of things that I'd rather not remember. I'm willing, though, to make the effort, if you are prepared to listen. The things I'm going to say aren't pretty, though, and if you would rather not hear it, you had better tell me now." I motion for him to continue, barely noticing when my butterbeer is placed in front of me.

"My family was... well, not the nicest," Snape begins, "and they didn't care for me very much. My parents were young, and I was a mistake. They never failed to remind me of that. They were both wizards, pure blood. They taught me to have pride in my heritage, though they were not extremists, by any means. My parents resented me for ending their life as teenagers, and they resented me for introducing them to the world of responsibility. They often left me at home alone, and I was expected, from the time I was three, to pull my own weight in the family. At first, it was simple things, doing the dishes, sweeping the floor. As I grew, the tasks got harder, and I was terrified of failure. I feared my parents reaction to my obvious imperfections. They never beat me, nothing so drastic as that. But they often told me that I was to blame, for everything that was wrong in their lives. Hearing that, so often, it has an effect on a child. Which I'm sure you know. I began to believe everything they told me, that I was worthless, a burden on the world. When I began at Hogwarts, it seemed like I was in heaven. My teachers were nothing but encouraging, and my housemates did not reject me, as I had feared. I found a talent in potions, and for the first time in my life, I had no responsibilities. My parents owled me frequently, their letters full of the same things I heard at home. The distance, however, made them easier to forget. One day, one of my friends in Slytherin found a letter from my mother. He told me about a place where I would be accepted, my achievements celebrated, rather than mocked. I was desperate. At Hogwarts, I had found friendship, but never love, not really. I needed to feel loved, can you understand that?" I nod. I understand Snape's words all too well. Its almost painful to here this account of his childhood, so similar to my own.

"Anyway, I was asked to attend a few meetings of the deatheaters, and I agreed. I loved being in that circle, being accepted without question. Voldemort told me everything I wanted to hear. A few short hours with him, and he was embracing me like a son. I was thrilled. I agreed to become a full-fledged deatheater, had the mark burned into my arm. It hurt like hell, but I told myself that my pain was a small price to pay to please my new master. I listened to the hatred Voldemort spewed, and I loved his words. I loved that he offered me a chance to be in control, to be superior. He told me I would have respect." Snape pauses to look at me, clearly expecting to see revulsion on my face. But I understand his words, just as he so clearly understands me. We are cut from the same cloth, I think, and it is only chance that I did not end up in the situation he is describing to me. Snape sees the encouragement on my face, takes a long drink of his butterbeer, and begins to speak again.

"The first night, that we went out together, we went to a small muggle village. Voldemort blasted open a home and called me over to his side. His wand was pointed at a little girl, no more than five. He told me to have fun with her, said he wanted to watch me getting my first taste of his life. I let it all build up inside of me, the hatred I felt to my parents, the anger I felt at my own inadequacy. I tortured that child as if she were the sole cause of all pain in the world, and Voldemort looked on and laughed. Later, when I had returned to Hogwarts and the hatred had bled out of me, I realized what I had done. The loathing I had felt for myself before that night was nothing compared to what I felt in the face of my sins. I walked up to the astronomy tower, only planning to sit and think. But the call of the air, the promise of release, it was just too much for me. I jumped."

"It should have occurred to me, I suppose that Dumbledore would have put some sort of barrier in place to stop children from doing just what I did. The moment I jumped, some sort of levitation spell hit me, and I bounced back into the tower. Professor Dumbledore was there in an instant. To this day, I don't know how he got there so quickly. In any case, he took me back to his office and kept me there until I broke down and told him the whole story. He didn't judge me, as I expected. Instead, he took me into his arms, and told me that everything would be alright. He told me I could come and talk to him whenever I wanted to. And then, he asked me to become a spy. And I did, because I can never do enough to erase the pain I caused that little girl. Albus tried desperately to understand me, and even when he failed, he was willing to listen and do what he thought I needed. When I saw you, well... I saw myself. And I wanted to help you. I wanted you to have what I had in Albus." Snape pauses and rakes a hand through his hair. I look at him, stunned that he was so willing to tell me all of this. I have far too much to think about, and I can see that Snape is emotionally drained.

"Lets go back to Hogwarts." I say gently, and Snape nods briefly. He pays for our drinks and we begin a very silent journey back to the castle. 


	10. 10

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: See Chapter One 

Author's Notes: Okay, I have to apologize for this chapter, I know it has been a long time since I updated, and this chapter is very short, but I've been having computer problems and I don't have much time to write. I will try and update again this weekend, a longer chapter this time. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to this person who said that they read this would be slash- I suggest you go back and look again, what I said is that this is NOT slash. Again, I am grateful for your reviews, and I hope everyone is enjoying the story.

I have much to thing about, and Snape's words are still echoing through my head nearly an hour after hearing his story. I remember the look on his face as he spoke about torturing that child, and I wonder how he survives, how he faces every day with the knowledge that he harmed an innocent. I wonder how I can look at him the same way, how it is that I can't regard him as a monster, can't manage to evoke in myself the passionate loathing I feel for all deatheaters. How it is that I don't even consider him one of them, that all I feel as a result of his story is understanding and even pity. And even now, all I want to know is what is wrong with me, that I can feel this for a murderer. Shouldn't I be wondering what is wrong with him?

The truth of it is, I do understand, far more than I want to. I understand what it is like to feel unloved and unwanted, and I understand the temptation to lash out. I'd like to think that I couldn't have done it, that I couldn't have hurt that little girl, but I realize now that the potential is in me, as much as in Snape. If circumstances had been different, if I hadn't been so welcomed at Hogwarts, if Dumbledore hadn't gone out of his way to help me, I might have done it. In Snape's shoes, I can't say with certainty that I would have walked away, that I wouldn't have joined Voldemort. And that thought terrifies me. 

I glance up, pulling myself away from my musings, and note with some surprise that Professor Snape has somehow managed to situate himself directly across from me and begin speaking without my notice. I wonder how long he's been talking, and if he has noticed yet that I haven't heard a word of it. 

"Umm, sir? Could you repeat that, please? I didn't realize you were talking to me..." I interrupt the professor, my voice soft and hesitant. Snape looks startled and a bit fearful, and it occurs to me that he probably expects me to announce that I have decided he is a hideous creature and should be locked in Azkaban. After all, I have spent over an hour since he told me his story sitting in a chair staring straight ahead. It must have been quite unnerving.

"Of course... I was just saying that... Well, maybe we should talk, about what I said earlier. I mean, you oviously have something on your mind, and if you aren't comfortable being around me anymore if you are frightened of me, I need to know now, so that I can tell Albus and arrange for someone else to take care of you." Snape's voice is strong and certain, but his eyes betray just a touch of vulnerability. 

""Professor, to be perfectly honest, I'm still trying to work through what I feel. I certainly don't hate you, and I don't fear you, but... To be honest Professor, I'm a bit shaken. I think I understand you better now, and it scares me that I can listen to a story like the one you told and feel nothing but understanding towards you. It scares me that I can identify with you, that I can understand the emotions and instincts that would drive you to do what you did. It terrifies me to think that I have the potential to intentionally hurt someone, and I do, I know I do now. And I don't know if I could control this... this part of me, if I was in the wrong situation if I didn't have anyone to talk to and let everything out, I just don't know what I would do..." Professor Snape looks at me, his gaze soft and understanding. 

"Harry, I think we've seen what you do when you feel like I did then. You felt alone and unloved, and you blamed yourself for ruining the lives of innocent people, and you let it build up inside of you and didn't confide in anyone. But Harry, you didn't react like I did, not exactly. You may have tried to take the life of an innocent, but it was your life, not someone else's. You could have easily taken your emotions out on the people you live with or someone else in the neighborhood, but you didn't. You took everything you felt, everything that was dying to escape from you, and you controlled it and turned it back on yourself. It was a stupid thing to do, probably the stupidest thing you have ever done. But you controlled yourself, Harry, and that shows great strength. Once you figure out that you were wrong, once you really believe it, you can harness that strength and use it to release your emotions in a better way. Talking to me is wonderful beginning, but it won't always be enough. You will need to talk to everyone you care about, Harry, you need to tell them everything that drove you to such extremes. And it will be hard. It will be the hardest thing you have ever done. But you have already demonstrated your strength to me, Harry, and I have faith in you. So don't doubt yourself Harry, because that is when you truly begin to lose control." Snape had taken my hand in his as he spoke, and I was quite certain of the sincerity of his words, but I was not so confident in their truth. Still, his words give me more to consider, and I slip back into my mind, retreating from Professor Snape until I have time to process his words.


	11. 11

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: A new chapter already, I think this is some sort of record for me! This is a couple days after the last chapter, in case you don't pick up on that. Enjoy, and review!

Chapter Eleven

I stand behind an old, weathered table in a the dank dungeon classroom Snape has selected to hold my tutoring. He is at the front of the room, muttering to himself while he gathers ingredients. He hasn't told me anything at all about what we are doing today, and I hope it doesn't require extensive knowledge of the text we are supposed to be studying over the holidays. I haven't even looked at the homework, and I have never seen Snape angrier than when a student (especially me) is unprepared for a lesson. I run my fingers nervously through my hair and keep my eyes trained on the professor. The last thing that I want to do is make him angry or disappoint him. Sharing his private quarters may have developed into a comfortable routine for both of us, but I can't imagine that it would be so pleasant if we were at each other's throats as we have been during every potion's class since I began at Hogwarts.

"Okay, Harry, today we are going to work a bit on healing potions. I've noticed in class that you seem to grasp those the best, and I thought we might start with something you are comfortable with." I look at Snape, startled. Somehow, when I entered the classroom today, I forgot everything about the Snape I was getting to know this summer. I assumed that, when Snape and I returned to our usual positions as teacher and student, he would become the same intimidating jerk I had to deal with all year. I had expected Snape to return to calling me "Mr. Potter" and glaring at me for every mistake. Now, though, Snape is standing not at the front of the room, but right beside me, talking to me in the same friendly voice he has been using since I arrived this summer. He even admitted not only that there were some potions that I am not a complete failure at, but that he has watched me carefully enough to note that patterns in which potions I can make and which I struggle with. I feel like a fool for doubting the professor when he has shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived. 

"All right, sir. Which potion are we to make?" Snape smiles encouragingly at me, probably noting the nervousness that has been gnawing at me since he told me he would be tutoring me. He arranges the ingredients in front of me.

"Why don't you look at what we are using and see if you can guess? An important part of potions, Harry, is knowing the properties of the ingredients you are using and how they interact with other ingredients. Only when you can do that can you begin creating your own potions or making modifications to old ones. Just look at everything in front of you individually, and think about the potions you have seen it in before, and you can probably guess what this potion is used for." I nod and begin to study the ingredients before me. There are several ingredients that I recognize from sleeping potions, but one of the ingredients I am certain I saw in an energy-boosting potion. Surely the two would cancel each other out? But when you take a sleeping potion, does it do anything other than put you to sleep, are there any side effects? I struggle to recall the few times I have taken sleeping potions. They work quickly, but not immediately, and you can feel them begin to take effect. It starts in the toes, a sort of numbness flowing through the body and... Maybe the energy boost would stop you from going to sleep, but the numbness... A potion to numb pain? It made sense. There was one more ingredient on the table, something I had never used before, and I looked at it uncertainly. One ingredient can change the entire potion, and I haven't the slightest idea about what this would do. Still, I decide to hazard a guess.

"Is it for numbing pain, sir?" I ask nervously. Professor Snape nods, smiling, and I find myself grinning back. I think this is the first time Professor Snape hasn't criticized an answer that I have given. He reaches for each ingredient and holds it up, explaining its properties and how it works in this particular potion. The ingredient I don't know turns out to be for direction, so that the potion will only numb the area of the injury. Without it, the potion would spread through the entire body and be essentially useless, as it is not potent enough to be spread over such a large area. With all the background information Professor Snape gives me, I begin the potion feeling more prepared than I ever have before. I understand the makeup of the potion enough to catch little mistakes I usually make, like adding the ingredients in the wrong order or boiling it for too long. As Professor Snape observed at the beginning of the lesson, I always try a little harder with potions used for healing. Healing potions have an understandable purpose, unlike many of the potions we make. When I can't understand why a potion is made, I find my mind drifting as I make it. I just don't see the point of working to make a potion that turns your hair a funny color or shrinks your feet, and I don't put as much effort into them.

As I finally finish the potion, Professor Snape pulls out an empty jar to pour it in. "Excellent work, Harry. I'm almost convinced that you don't NEED tutoring! Why don't you show this kind of ability in class?" I blush, grateful for the compliment and a bit embarrassed about the comment on my school habits.

"Its a bit harder to do in class, sir, when I know I can't ask questions and if I take a wrong step I'll lose fifty points for Gryffindor." I blurt out without thinking. My face burns an even brighter shade of red and I open my mouth to apologize, but Snape holds up his hand to stop me.

"Point taken, Harry. I know I'm a bit rough on you in class... Okay, more than a bit, but you have to understand, if I don't act like I loath the sight of you, someone in that class is going to send word to their father or mother that I'm being nice to the Boy Who Lived, and eventually word will reach Voldemort. It could very well compromise my position as a spy and get me killed. Maybe at first I had something against you personally, but I certainly don't anymore, and I don't want you to be offended by the things I am forced to say to you during the school year because of the position I am in. You understand that, don't you?" I nod briefly, and find myself wishing that school didn't have to begin again. I miss my friends, but at the same time, I don't know how I am going to be able to face them. I don't know if I can pretend that I haven't changed, or if I even want to, but at the same time, I don't want them to ask me any questions about this summer and why I am different. I'm not sure that I will be able to deal with the inquisitive looks Hermione is bound to throw my way when she thinks I'm not looking, or Ron's anger when he realizes that I don't want to tell him anything. I don't want to look into Malfoy's sneering face and remember the words he said to me on the train at the beginning of the summer. I don't want to look at the Hufflepuff table and remember Cedric's death. I don't want to listen to Snape yell during potions and be forced to pretend that I don't like him, that I don't understand why he is the way he is, that he isn't an important part of my life now, that he isn't the only thing holding me together.

"I understand, sir, but can I ask you one favor please? I can ignore any comments you make about me, or Ron or Hermione, and I can ignore any points you take from Gryffindor for stupid things that don't matter at all, but no matter how much I know you don't mean it, I don't think could handle it if you made any comments about Cedric or my parents. Please." I look up at Snape a little desperately, and he looks a little taken aback at my request. "Look, everything else you have ever said to me, I don't care about. I never cared about it. But the stuff you have said about my parents, that really hurt. And Malfoy, on the train, he said something about Cedric... It was hard enough hearing it from him, and I never listen to what he says. It would be torture hearing it from you."

"Harry... I promise you, I will never say anything to you about Cedric. I would never hurt you that way. And Draco... Watch out for him, Harry. I want to give him a chance, I really do, but I know all too well what his father is capable of, and if he has instilled his own beliefs into his son, you really need to be careful of him. As for saying things about your parents... I'll do my best. I can't promise you I won't say anything, when I get upset I often speak before I think. I didn't exactly like your father, Harry, and it will be hard to remember to bite my tongue when it comes to him. I will try, though, I can assure you of that." Snape looks down at me earnestly, and I surprise myself and much as I do him by hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, sir." I whisper into the folds of Snape's robe. He hugs me tighter in response. After a second, he steps back and returns to bottling my potion. A few minutes later, we exit the classroom and Snape informs me that we will be taking our lunch in the Great Hall with the rest of the professors. 


	12. 12

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: ANOTHER CHAPTER! I'm on a roll! I hope you enjoy this chapter- and that none of you are particularly fond of Trelawney! Please review!

Chapter Twelve

When we arrive in the Great Hall, Professor Snape once again seats me between himself and Professor Trelawney. He serves me an ample amount of food, though I barely notice what it is. Professor Trelawney is leaning a little too close to me, her perfume making my nose twitch, and I'm afraid that I might sneeze in her face. Professor Snape looks over, clearly about to say something to me, when he notices Professor Trelawney's uncomfortable proximity to me.

"Was there something you needed, Professor?" Snape asks, the cold edge to his voice making me jerk back in surprise. Amazing how quickly I adjusted to hearing Snape speak softly, gently. 

"No, no Severus, I was merely contemplating certain truths that were revealed to me today. I thought to tell Harry of them, as they concern his fate. But it seems I am unable to find him alone, and it is, after all, a private affair." Professor Trelawney's voice drips with obviously forced sweetness, and she reaches across me to pat Snape lightly on the shoulder as she speaks. It seems like a bad move to me, as Snape is obviously struggling to control his temper.

"The boy has no secrets from me, Sybil. And perhaps you should ASK him if he has any interest in his future before you reveal it." Snape's voice has gone very quiet now, and I silently beg Trelawney not to continue.

"Oh, but Severus, who wouldn't want to know the future? After all, the boy must want some time to say his good-byes before he is no longer with us!" Snape stands up quickly, and slams his goblet of pumpkin juice down on the table so loudly that all the other professors look up from their meals and stare at us. I sink back into my chair, trying desperately to disappear.

"That is quite enough, Trelawney! If you had any concern at all for this child you would cut the melodramatic nonsense and leave him alone! You see him suffering, you see him sitting here, struggling to get through a meal, and you see fit to predict his death? I don't know why it is you seem to 'see' this young man's death at least once a day, but has it ever occurred to you that you might be seeing what you want to see? You seem to keep an awfully close eye on Harry, Sybil. But I'm keeping a closer one on you." With that, Snape grabs my arm and drags me out of the hall. I struggle to keep up with him, while he fumes on and on about incompetent and uncaring teachers. All the aggression he wanted to put into Professor Trelawney he poured into his walking, and we reach the dungeons with unbeatable speed.

"Emerald visions," Snape growls at the portrait, cutting off any greeting that might have been given. The man in the portrait wisely chooses not to chat today, and opens so sharply that it bangs back against the wall. Snape pays no attention, and pulls me inside. He immediately starts a fire in the fireplace and plops down into one of the armchairs. 

"Harry... You know by now that Trelawney is... Well, not always accurate in her predictions, right?" Snape's kind voice is back, and I wonder how he can just turn it off and on like that. He looks so worried about me, as if there is a chance I would have taken anther death prediction from Trelawney to heart. 

"Sir, Professor Trelawney has been predicting my death since the first divination class. I just ignore it now. But... Well, did you mean that stuff about her watching me and wanting me to die? I mean, she does seem to think about my death a lot, but she's never done anything even remotely hostile towards me." Snape winces slightly as I remind him of his speech a few moments ago.

"I shouldn't have said that... I really, really shouldn't have said that. I'm quite sure Albus will be along momentarily to remind me of that. I have no reason to suspect Trelawney of wanting you dead, or having any ill intentions, I just got a little caught up in the moment. The look on her face when I said that, though... I did mean it when I said I was going to keep an eye on her. I don't trust her." I nod easily, I don't think Snape trusts many people, and it is kind of comforting to know that he is watching my back. I know I have Dumbledore doing the same, but Professor Dumbledore is far too trusting, and his trust has put me in danger before. Snape, one the other hand is meticulous in anything he does, and suspects anyone and everyone. Perhaps that was not entirely healthy for him, but it certainly made me feel safe.

A sudden rap on the door startles me, but it appears that Snape was expecting it. He walks over and lets Dumbledore into the room.

"Severus, Harry... I wanted to speak to you both about the little incident at dinner. That is, of course, if you have a moment right now, Severus?" It was ridiculous of him to ask, and everyone there knows it. Snape had nothing to do, and even if he had, he would not have refused the headmaster.

"I think I can give you a moment, Albus," Snape mutters dryly. He motions to a seat by the fireplace, and pulls over another seat for me. He returns to the armchair he had flopped down in when we arrived.

"Wonderful, my boy, wonderful. Now, Severus, I assume you know why I am here. No matter how provoked you may have been, your words to Sybil were unkind and inappropriate. I would like to have at least a facade of civility amongst the staff. On the other hand, I am quite pleased to hear you being so protective of Mr. Potter, and I find it difficult to admonish you for words said out of concern for a student. Nonetheless, I would like you to be more polite to Professor Trelawney in the future." Professor Snape sat slouched in his seat, looking every bit the disrespectful teenager listening for the millionth time to a lecture from a parent. Professor Dumbledore looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes, and grinned a bit beneath his beard. "Severus, are you listening to me?" Dumbledore posed the question with mock sterness, and I was surprised to hear Professor Snape chuckle in reply.

"Do I ever listen to these lectures, Albus? You and I both know that you a required to give them to maintain some semblance of order amongst the faculty, as well and we both know that I will ignore it, as usual, and probably say something else rude to Trelawney before the week is out. And Minerva will sit down the table pretending to disapprove and struggling not to laugh, and probably wishing she had said it instead. And you will pretend to be very put out with me, and we'll be down here again, doing this same thing." This time, it is Dumbledore who laughs.

"Too true, my boy, but kindly refrain from passing that information on to the rest of the staff. I'd like to think I still have some of them fooled. Now, Harry, I'd like to talk to you, too, if you don't mind." When Dumbledore turns to me, his face has lost its grin.

"Sir, Professor Snape has already spoken to me. I know better than to take Professor Trelawney's death predictions seriously, and I don't feel bad about what she said. I'm used to it." I smile in what I hope is a reassuring manner, and Snape reaches over to pat me gently on the shoulder. I'm slowly adjusting to these small, physical reassurances that he is there and cares about me, and I'm even grateful for them. I often see Mrs. or Mr. Weasley do the same to their children, and although Ron often acts annoyed when his mother holds his hand or pulls him in for a brief hug, I imagine he would miss it if it were gone.

"Now Harry, I don't want to encourage you to disregard what a teacher has told you, but I must say, in this case, I'm quite glad you reached that conclusion on your own. I would advise you, however, to steer clear of Professor Trelawney for awhile. She has quite a temper, and she often knows exactly what to say to hurt a person. I'm not trying to say that Professor Snape's insinuations were correct, but Sybil was quite upset at Severus' words, and she may very well attempt to get back at him by upsetting you. Not, er, that Professor Trelawney is in anyway childish or petty, or, in fact, that any of your professors are anything short of perfect..." At this, I let out a short laugh, and both Snape and Dumbledore look delighted. 

"I understand, sir," I tell him, and Dumbledore stands to leave. Professor Snape escorts him to the door, and then speaks quietly to a house elf who I hadn't noticed. Probably ordering dinner, I realize. After all, we didn't exactly get a chance to eat in the Great Hall.


	13. 13

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: This chapter is out a couple days later than I expected, sorry about that. I got a little caught up with visiting relatives, and then my family's car was stolen, which really bites. Anyway, no Trelawney in this chapter, but there is a brief appearance by Ron. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. This chapter is for Sarah and Hematite9, who both emailed me to remind me to get writing. Anytime I'm not updating quickly enough, send an email to lonegungrrl@hotmail.com and I'll get moving. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please review!

Chapter 13

Again, like every morning for the past few weeks, I am drawn out of sleep by a gentle but persistent shaking of my shoulders.

"Harry... Harry, come on, time to get up." Snape steps back and allows me to search groggily for my glasses. The scent of bacon permeates the small living quarters and I yawn widely. Dragging myself out of the bed, I am delighted to note that I have yet again made it through the night with no disturbing dreams, without the assistance of a potion. Though I have yet to make it through an entire week without nightmares, I have been able to sleep soundly often enough that Professor Snape no longer keeps a nightly vigil at my bedside, and only comes in when he hears me cry out. Though we have not returned to the Great Hall for a meal since the incident with Trelawney nearly two weeks ago, I have engaged in small talk with several other professors when spotted in the halls with Snape. I am still not comfortable speaking to anyone besides Snape, but it is progress.

"Are we having another lesson today?" I pad into the living room after Snape, still clad in my new, soft pajamas. Frankly, if Snape didn't insist that I change into 'real clothes' before 9 o'clock each morning, I don't think I would ever wear anything but pajamas. 

"Er... Actually, Harry, I had something a bit different planned for today. But only if its okay with you of course, I don't want you to feel rushed... And I can always go alone..." Snape is looking at me nervously and I have to resist the urge to laugh. This summer has certainly revealed a new side of my professor, so eager not to push me to far or make me uncomfortable. The change is a bit disconcerting, but welcome nonetheless.

"What is it, Professor?" I do my best to sound encouraging, and I begin to wonder if Snape is the only one who has changed. I certainly didn't care much about Snape's feelings before this summer.

"Well... Albus gave me your school list for next year, and I thought maybe we could go to Diagon Alley to pick up your supplies and get a few things for me. But if its too much... Well, you know, we can always stay here and order your supplies by post... The shipment charges are a bit much, but it shouldn't be a problem..."

"Professor, I'd love to go to Diagon Alley with you. Can I see the list of supplies? Hey, if the supply lists have been sent... Professor, who are the Gryffindor prefects? Is it Hermione? I imagine she would be crushed if she didn't make it..." Snape blanched suddenly, as if I had reminded him of something unpleasant.

"Oh, Harry, I hadn't thought... Well, you didn't make it, I'm sorry... Hermione is one, but the other... Well, I certainly didn't agree with the decision, but its up to the headmaster, you know. The other Gryffindor prefect is Neville Longbottom." Snape glances at me nervously, trying to read my expression. In truth, I couldn't be happier. Hermione has been working to become prefect since she got her Hogwarts letter, and Neville... He's been telling us all to follow the rules for as long as I can remember, out of shear fear of the professors. Now, at least, he'll be able to do something when we ignore him. Besides, Neville is a wonderful person with a desperate need for a little self-esteem.

"Thats great, Professor!" I grin at Snape to show that I mean it, and he relaxes a bit. It never really occurred to me that I had a chance at prefect anyway, with all the points I've lost for Gryffindor over the years. As much as I hate to admit it, Snape is perfectly justified in saying that I act as though the rules don't apply to me. Regardless of my reasoning, I've broken more rules in my first four years than the average person does in seven. And chances are, I'm not going to stop. I would feel like an awful hypocrite giving some first year a detention for wandering the corridors after curfew when I've done the same thing a million times. Snape nods his approval at me, and we begin to eat.

Snape hurries me though my morning ritual and practically drags me out of Hogwarts, through the empty early-morning streets of Hogsmeade and into the Three Broomsticks. We walk to the back and floo to Diagon Alley. Once there, Snape calms down a bit, and we take off at a leisurely stroll down the streets. Most shops don't open until 8, and it is only 7:15 now. Still, there are some peddlers on the street, and Snape does not object when I stop to finger a small owl trinket, made of shining glass. I smile a bit at the expression carved into the owl's face, a look of haughty disdain that I have seen frequently on Hedwig. With a grin, I replace the owl and return to Snape's side. He leads me on, into the only shop open this early, Flourish and Blotts. Really, with all the robes Dumbledore bought me, and the potions ingredients from Snape, I hardly need to go anywhere else.

"There shouldn't be anyone from Hogwarts here," Snape tells me, "The lists were only sent out this morning, and it is a weekday. Most of your classmates will be unable to come here until a weekend, assuming that they have taken Dumbledore's warnings seriously enough not to come unaccompanied by a fully trained, licensed, adult wizard. However, should we see anyone who would recognize the oddity of our shopping together, our story is that Albus found your muggle home unsuitable and placed you at Hogwarts. As I was the only teacher available, I was coerced into agreeing to bring you here. I'm sure you will understand that if I see any reason for this ruse to be put into place, no time will be spared to inform you of my reasoning. If you, on the other hand, spot something that I don't, please attempt to inform me, as the change in your attitude will undoubtedly be a bit more subtle than the change in mine- the line between respect and... understanding, I suppose, is a thin line indeed. I'm sure it wouldn't seem terribly out of character for you to attempt idle chit-chat with you horrid old professor by pointing out a classmate, would it?" Snape pauses in his lecture, and suddenly realize just how much faith he has put in me by revealing his humanity. Even now, Snape is struggling to maintain the cold, hard mask he always wears in public, and remain the same understanding person I've come to know this summer.

"I would probably realize it was a bad idea if I stopped to think about it, professor, but I probably wouldn't stop to think about it. So no, it wouldn't be terribly odd of me." Snape glances down at me with a hint of amusement on his face. It took awhile for him to adjust to my self-deprecating remarks, but I think he's finally realized that if I am feeling particularly bad, I'm more likely to go for hours without cracking a smile than to laugh at myself. I am, much to my own bewilderment, looking forward to a day of shopping with Snape.

I follow Snape into the brightly lit bookstore, a small smile on my face. The smell of new books, crisp, clean pages and shiny new covers drifts through the store. I may not be a bookworm like Hermione, but there is something undeniably pleasing about the feel of a brand new book, with its sharp corners and stiff, unread pages. I drift aimlessly down one of the aisles, fingering the spines of each book, and reading the titles. I seem to be in a fiction section, and I laugh out loud when I see a book titled, "The Muddled Up Muggle," which appears to be about a muggle who begins to notice strange things happening in his home when he rents a room to a stranger in need. The author clearly has no knowledge of muggle life- the illustration on the cover depicts a man- presumably the muggle- attempting to open a can of food without the assistance of a can opener.

"What is so funny?" Snape walks up behind me and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I hold out the book, and he snorts in disgust. "The ought to do a little research before they write these things," he mutters. "Come on, lets get your school books, I've already got what I need." He holds up a thick book on potions, something that looks dreadfully boring. My extra lessons with Snape have given me a new respect for potion making, and a limited interest in the subject, but my interest did not extend far enough for me to read a thousand pages on the making of veritaserum. I walk over to Snape and take the list of my school books out of his hand. Luckily, this year, nothing on the list bites or scratches. Flourish and Blotts has set up a display in the front of the store with Hogwarts books, separated by year, and its quite easy to get my things. As we head to the cashier to pay, I am struck with a thought.

"Er... Professor, I don't have any money with me. I'll need to go to Gringotts, I can't pay for this." Snape shakes his head impatiently, and I frown. I do not want him to pay for anything else for me, he has already bought more than enough potion supplies for me for the rest of the year.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. If you really feel the need, you can pay me back later, but I certainly don't mind paying." I thank Snape and take notice of exactly how much the purchase was. Regardless of how Snape felt about the matter, I was determined to pay him back. It makes me uncomfortable to know that I am in someone's debt, especially when I am more than capable of paying myself. If only the Weasley's had someone like Snape, making purchases for them without a second thought. Although I suppose they would be no more comfortable with it than I am.

We stride out of Flourish and Blotts, Snape carrying our purchases and leading us along. There are a few more people on the streets now, but I'm grateful to see that there is no one I recognize. There are, however, a few people who recognize me, and the whispers and pointing are making me very uncomfortable. I walk quickly to catch up to Snape, and he moves closer to me and briefly places a hand on my shoulder to calm me down. I notice that he turns his fiercest glare on anyone who looks at me oddly, and I'm grateful for his protective behavior. Snape leads us past the growing crowds of shoppers, and into the apothecary. He speaks briefly to an assistant, who scurries off to fill his order. The apothecary is small, and the atmosphere is unpleasant. I can certainly understand Snape's clear desire to leave as soon as possible. The assistant is obviously used to Snape's behavior, and practically runs back to us, Snape's order in hand.

"Be careful! You are not carrying vials of water, you know!" Snape snaps angrily at the assistant as he grabs his purchases and shoves some money into his hand. Without waiting for the assistant to count the money, he turns on his heel and stalks out.

"I've always hated that place," Snape mutters as we pull through the crowds.

"I noticed," I answer dryly, and Snape looks down at me with a grin. "Where next?" In answer, Snape pulls me into a bench at the ice cream parlor. We each order small sundaes, and I grin when I see Snape eating ice cream with a dot of hot fudge on his chin.

"Harry! HARRY!" I wince as I hear my name being yelled by an all-too familiar voice. I turn and greet my friend, hands shaking slightly under the table.

"Hello, Ron." I force my voice to be calm and steady, and Ron does not appear to notice my nerves.

"Harry, where have you been? We got an owl from Dumbledore saying that you were perfectly safe but that we would be unable to contact you for awhile, and Mum was so worried! And then Hermione owled and said she had gotten the same message, and we didn't hear anything at all from you, and- Professor Snape??" Ron stops talking, astonished, and stares at our potions professor. Snape has, I notice, taken the opportunity to wipe his face while Ron talks to me. Perhaps he can salvage something of his reputation, although I am doubtful that the vampire rumors allow room for eating ice cream sundaes outside on a bright, sunny summer morning.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape drawls, "Mr. Potter is, I assure you, in no immediate danger. He is staying at Hogwarts this summer, for reasons that are frankly none of your business. Professor Dumbledore felt that it would be unwise to allow Mr. Potter to come to Diagon Alley to purchase his supplies unescorted, and I was told that the _privilege _of babysitting him was mine. I came early in hopes of avoiding more schoolchildren I would rather not see at all, much less on my days off. I have, of course, been disappointed. However, I suggest that you make yourself scarce while Mr. Potter and I finish our business. I may not be able to take points over the summer, but I assure you, spending any more time than is necessary with the Boy Who Lived's lackey will put me in a very, very bad mood when the school year does begin." Ron looks furious, but he backs away nonetheless, biting back whatever he wanted to say. I manage to make out a muttered good-bye, and then he storms off, presumably to join the rest of his family.

"Thanks." I mutter to Snape, pushing my spoon around in my sundae. I've suddenly lost my appetite. At least now I know why my friends haven't been writing to me, although I am horrified to find that I hadn't even notice. I'd been to preoccupied to realize that I hadn't received a single owl since arriving at Hogwarts. I am grateful for Dumbledore's consideration, but furious with myself for not noticing. Snape, observing my discontent, takes my arm and leads me back to The Leaky Cauldron, so that we can go home. 


	14. 14

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Well, I know I'm a loser, but I decided since the next chapter was going to be Harry's birthday, I might as well get it up *on* Harry's birthday. It turned out to be longer than I anticipated, though, so you'll probably get another chapter within the next couple of days. Lady FoxFire- Harry's friends will find out what he tried to do when he gets the courage to tell him. No one else will do it for him. So probably not until the start of the school year. Thanks to everyone for reviewing, and a special thanks to the people who put me on their favorites list! I hope you enjoy the chapter. 

Chapter 14

I yawn and stretch, burying further under the covers. A warm cocoon of deliciously soft blankets rubs against me, and I snuggle into them. I feel more rested than I have in months, and I don't want to abandon the comfort of a dreamless sleep for the uncertainty of consciousness. I release a contented sigh, and hear an answering chuckle from somewhere to my left. I rub my eyes, and attempt to question the chuckler to exactly what is going on, but all I manage is a soft, "Mmh?" Again, I hear laughter. Now I'm becoming annoyed. I try again to get some answers. "Whaaaa?" This time the laughter is accompanied by a voice.

"I think its time for you to get up, Harry. Its nearly ten o'clock!" I reach lazily for my glasses and stare over at Snape.

"Ten o'clock? When have you ever let me sleep until ten? What is going on?" I look at Snape suspiciously, and for the third time this morning, he laughs.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Potter. Now get up!" With that, Snape yanks my blankets off of me, and I growl at the sudden cold. Slowly, I begin to register what Snape said. Birthday. Today is my birthday. I'd completely forgotten. And SNAPE knew? Startled into awareness, I sit up and begin to pull myself from the bed. Snape looks at me impatiently, and I can actually see him biting his lip to stop himself from telling me to hurry up. I stretch one last time, and place my feet on the cool floor. Snape grabs my arm and pulls me into the living room, where a table is set up with an absolutely wonderful looking breakfast. I grin and sit down, Snape sitting across from me.

"Who would have thought, the bitter old potions professor, eating chocolate cupcakes for breakfast..." Snape laughs and takes a huge bite from his cupcake.

"I imagine that wouldn't do much for my reputation, would it? But no one makes cupcakes like the Hogwarts house elves. Its impossible to resist!" I take a bite from my own cupcake and nod in agreement. I have never tasted anything so heavenly. I glance around the room as I take a sip of tea, and notice what looks suspiciously like a pile of presents in the corner. Snape notices where I'm looking and grins at me, his face betraying a hint of embarrassment.

"Well... I didn't want you to have a horrible birthday just because you were here... I mean, I know you probably have more at your relatives home, but this is the best I could do, the headmaster only informed me of your birthday a few days ago..." I nearly laugh at the idea of having a better birthday with the Dursleys. Snape has never asked me about them, and I haven't volunteered any information. All he knows is that I don't think that they would deal well with a depressed, suicidal teenager. Clearly, he is still under the impression that they give a damn.

"Professor, I promise, any birthday away from my family is a good birthday. You didn't have to go to all this trouble!" I smile at Snape, and, though he looks a bit startled at my obvious dislike for my only living relatives, he reluctantly returns the grin.

"Well, I didn't do that much, actually. Dobby was more than delighted to help when I said it was for you. Is it okay if he stops by later?" I nod. Facing other people might be difficult, but Dobby is always too happy to see me to ask me any difficult questions. "Albus mentioned something about dropping by too. Actually, I think he wants us to have dinner in the Great Hall tonight. He stopped by last night and made a point of telling me that Trelawney was going away for a few days and that dinner was sure to be more quiet without her there. You don't mind do you?" I shake my head, a bit apprehensively. I know I'll have to face everyone eventually, and with only a month left until the start of school I figure I better start adjusting to being around people other than Snape.

Snape waves his wand once over the table, and the remnants of our breakfast disappear. He motions me over to a seat in front of the fire, and grabs the stack of presents. He hands me the top one, a small, flat package, wrapped, I note with amusement, in Slytherin colors. I carefully remove the shining silver bow and then, patience be damned, tear anxiously at the green paper. A book falls in my lap, and I flip it over to read the title. Of course, its educational. This may be an incredibly new and strange version of Snape, but it is Snape after all. The book is a guide to potions ingredients, their uses, where they are found, how they are used, and who discovered them. I find myself intrigued, despite myself.

"Thanks, professor. You know, with these extra lessons and now this book, I just might do better than Hermione in potions this year!"

"Your welcome. Just make sure you read it carefully, and don't think I'm going to give you any hints about what to study for my tests. But you are right, with all the progress you have made this summer, Ms. Granger should be concerned about her position at the top of my class. But if you do better than her on a test, do me a favor and try and keep it to yourself. Ms. Granger is by no means a foolish girl, but her grades mean a lot to her, and I don't think she would deal well knowing that she was being beaten by her best friend."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't. She would probably spend all night in the library trying to convince herself that she was still smarter than me. And she is, really, so why make her go through all the trouble?" Snape frowns.

"Harry, you are quite intelligent, you know. Hermione may make top grades, but I have no doubt that you are just as smart as her, if a little less... dedicated to your studies. I know I don't exactly compliment you in class but you are by no means stupid. You should have a little more confidence in yourself!"

"Professor, please, I was joking! Can't we save the self-esteem lecture for another day? Its my birthday!" Snape sighs, and then hands me a second gift. I smile at him a bit, and he relaxes. I unwrap the second gift, much smaller than the first, and pull out a little red box. Inside, I find the glass owl I admired the other day in Diagon Alley. Snape had put it on a shining silver chain, and after examining it fro a moment, I slide it over my neck.

"Er... The salesman said that if you rub the owl, it will call your own owl to you. So if you ever need to send a letter or anything, you can just call for your owl and have her take it. Just make sure there is an open window or something so that she can reach you."

"Can I try it now?" I ask, and Snape stands up to open the door. I rub the owl gently, and it glows red for a second. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps down the hall. Just as Dumbledore reaches Snape's door, Hedwig swoops into the room. She lands on my shoulder and hoots softly in my ear. Dumbledore looks over at us in surprise.

"Er... Hello, Harry, Severus..." Hedwig hoots angrily at Dumbledore, and he hastily adds, "Yes, yes, you too, Hedwig. I didn't expect to see you in the dungeons." I laugh and show Dumbledore the owl charm. He admires it for a long moment, and tells me to keep it close. Another of his cryptic warnings, I suppose. Dumbledore settles into an armchair by the fire, and wishes me a happy birthday. He waves his wand and a small pile of gifts appears in front of him.

"Your friends seemed concerned that you would have an unpleasant birthday, particularly after Mr. Weasley spotted you with Severus. They asked me to pass on these gifts, as well as their best wishes." I grin and grab the first gift from the pile. The letter attached to the top is unmistakably Ron's handwriting.

__

Harry-

What on earth were you doing with that greasy git? Dumbledore told me he didn't kidnap you, but I have my doubts. Let me know as soon as you are allowed to write to me, I want to make sure that monster didn't hurt you (physically, at least, I can't imagine you'll escape with your sanity intact!). Anyway, a birthday at Hogwarts can't be any worse than a birthday with the Dursleys, can it? Its just too bad you can't try out my gift on your whale of a cousin... Maybe you can give them a try on Snape! Happy Birthday!

~Ron

P.S.- Be careful opening your gift!

I toss the note aside and stare a bit apprehensively at the accompanying package. I have a good idea of what it is, and, sure enough, when I pull back the paper, a box labeled Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. I set it carefully aside, and warn Snape and Dumbledore not to touch it. They look at me skeptically, but I tell them that the box contains Fred and George's creations and they both move a little further away. A small smile on my face, I reach for the next box. This one is from Hermione.

__

Harry-

__

Ron told me he saw you with Professor Snape in Diagon Alley. I know you don't get along with him, but really, Harry you should be grateful that he gave up his time to take you. I mean, especially now, you should be grateful that there are people willing to go out of their way to keep you safe. Anyway, I'm sure the last thing you want to hear on your birthday is a lecture on showing respect to your teachers! And I'll have plenty of time to lecture you next year- I've been made a prefect! I was so surprised when I got the letter- after all the rules we've broken, I was half expecting to see Lavender or Parvati made prefect! Happy birthday, Harry. I hope you enjoy the rest of your summer, I can't wait to see you!

~Hermione

I'm amused by Hermione and Ron's assumption that any time spent with Snape is torture, but I suppose at the beginning of the summer I felt the same way. I open Hermione's gift with much less caution than I treated Ron's, and I'm not surprised to find a book. For the first time, however, Hermione has selected fiction, a book of wizard fairy tales. I'm not sure what inspired Hermione to choose this gift, but I have to admit that I'm interested. Besides, getting lost in the world of fairy tales is a wonderful distraction when my own life gets a little too tough to handle. Not that I'll ever admit that to Ron. With a bemused smile on my face, I set Hermione's gift aside. The next letter, I know, is from Sirius, and my hand trembles a bit when I lift it. Bracing myself, I begin to read.

__

Harry-

I know you probably don't want to hear from me right now, and I know you are dealing with a lot of stuff, but there are some things that I have to say to you. I may never understand why you wanted to take your own life, and I'm pretty sure that I won't understand why you preferred staying with Snape to going to Remus' place, but I don't want that to change anything between us. You don't have to understand a person to care about them. I know I'm not the most reachable person right now, but if you ever want to talk to me, let me know. I'll do my best to be there for you. Look, I don't want to get all heavy with you on your birthday, and I know you might need more time before you are ready to talk to me, but please know that I'm always here. Happy birthday, kiddo.

~Snuffles

A horrible sense of guilt floods me as I think of all the pain I must be putting Sirius through. Finally he is released from Azkaban, ready to start a new life, and what do I do? Let the man who put him in Azkaban get away, and when that isn't enough to make Sirius hate me, I go and try to off myself. He put himself in so much danger for me, took unbelievable risks, only to find that I'm not James, just some defective kid who kind of looks like him. And he is still doing his best to take care of me, even after all I've put him through. I jump up and run from the living room and throw myself onto my bed. I can hear Snape knocking at my door, but I ignore him and bury my face into my pillow. I can barely make out the sound of Dumbledore excusing himself, and I feel even worse. He was trying to be nice to me, and I had to go and ruin his day. I can feel tears running down my cheeks and I angrily wipe them away. Not only am I completely incompetent and horrible to anyone who has shown even the slightest kindness towards me, I'm weak and overemotional as well. Gee, this is turning out to be one hell of a birthday. 


	15. 15

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Sorry this is late... I have a cousin coming to stay with me for a week, so I had to clean, and then I had a horrible time trying to write this chapter even when I did have the time to. Harry's birthday isn't even over yet... Gah! Thank you all for your reviews, I hope you like this chapter. I'll do my best to get the next one out soon!

Chapter 15

Snape enters my room quietly, but I still hear the creak of the door as he pulls it open. Without knocking. I don't bother turning around. Snape, it seems, doesn't mind being ignored, and obviously doesn't care that I want to be left alone. I hear Snape approaching my bed, the swish of his robes the only sound in the room. A warm hand lands on my back and begins to rub gently. I tense for a moment, and then relax as Snape continues his calming motions. Still, I can't stop crying, and I refuse to look up. In a way, Snape is only making it all worse, making me think for the millionth time about everything he has sacrificed for me. It seems like no one can get close to me without giving something up, and in the end, I'm not worth the sacrifice.

"Harry... Harry, come on, at least look at me." Snape, it seems, has run out of patience. I bury my head further into the pillow and refuse to look up. "Does it have something to do with Black? What did he say to you, Harry?" Snape's voice has gained a hard edge, and I'm suddenly forced to remember just how much bitterness the man is capable of putting into his voice.

"Read it." I manage to choke out. Snape's hand leaves my back, and I can hear him settling back into the chair at my bedside.

"Are you sure?" I just hand him the scrap of parchment, a bit torn from being clenched so tightly in my hand. There is silence for a few minutes while he reads, and the kind words echo in my head. I turn onto my side, staring at the wall, my back to Snape. Its always to same, Quirrel, Wormtail, Cedric, all of them evidence to what my good intentions do. If I hadn't been so damn convinced that it was my job to save the world and protect the sorcerer's stone, I wouldn't have had to deal with Quirrel at all. And regardless of Quirrel's sins, I killed him. Perhaps it wasn't my intention, but I knew that my touch was causing him pain. And when Dumbledore came into the hospital wing and told me that Voldemort had left Quirrel to die... It didn't even hit me, then, that it was my fault. I killed Professor Quirrel, in some half-assed attempt to prove my own worth. And I was applauded for it. That disgusts me, almost as much as the act itself. I've so blinded the people around me that they are convinced that I am justified in murder. And then, in my third year, I proved that while I may be capable of killing, I am incapable of killing when it could save an innocent life. I let Wormtail go. I let him escape, and now Sirius is on the run, unable to stay in any one place for too long, unable to lead the kind of normal life I so desperately want. And I took that from him. I took from him the one thing I want most in the world. What right did I have to do that? What right did I have to intervene? And then, as if I hadn't done enough, I had to go and tell Cedric to take the fucking cup with me. I should have just taken it. Should have let Cedric be the selfless, kind-hearted Hufflepuff everyone thought he was, and taken the cup myself. Instead, I had to let my fucking good intentions run away with me again. Had to insist on sharing the glory. What glory? What the hell does the Triwizard Tournament matter now? It doesn't mean shit to the Diggorys. And all it means to me is that I'm responsible for another death and for the rising of a man who will cause many, many more. I can feel my tears falling harder and faster now, and I can't hold back a small sob. I feel myself being turned over, see Snape's concerned face staring down at me, and I struggle to get away from him. 

"Harry... Harry, calm down, take a breath. You've got to relax, your going to choke yourself, come on..." With Snape's encouragement, I manage to take a few deep breaths and regain a bit of control. I stop struggling against him, and he loosens his grip on my shoulders. Immediately, I turn back over and face the wall again. This time, Snape doesn't try to make me face him. Instead, he moves back and returns to his chair, waiting for me to speak. And, of course, I do.

"Did you read it?" I demand.

"Yes... Harry, as much as it pains me to admit it, Black was trying to be a nice guy. I mean, unless there is something more to the story that I'm missing?" I shake my head a bit. No, nothing more. He was being nice. Too nice. " Why did it upset you? Explain it to me."

I groan and punch my pillow in frustration. More talking. Damn it! It occurs to me that I could have avoided this entire discussion if I'd just retained control over my emotions.

"He was trying to be a nice guy." I mutter. I risk a glance over at Snape, and realize that he is going to need some clarification. "I don't deserve it."

"And why do you think you don't deserve some kindness when you are obviously having a lot of problems right now? Would you deny another child a loving godfather if they were feeling the kind of pain you are feeling right now?" This time I give Snape a full-on stare.

"I'm not another child. I'm me. I don't know what other people deserve, I don't know what they want. I know what I've done, I know who I am, and I don't deserve Sirius." Carefully avoiding the why. He should know why. I think we've had this conversation before.  


"Why, Harry?" Voice deceptively gentle. Making me say it out loud again, confirm it, make it real. Nothing spins speculation into truth faster than sharing it with another person. And no matter how strongly I feel about my own guilt, the last thing I want is confirmation.

"You know why," I answer tiredly. "I always fuck it up. Every chance I get, every time someone puts trust in me or helps me or cares about me, I fuck it up."

"You haven't fucked anything up with me." Snape's tongue trips over the vulgar word. I imagine he thinks such language to be beneath him. Maybe it really is. It seems appropriate in regards to me, though.

"A confession that you care, Professor? You really must be slipping. I'm almost convinced that you're human! Has it occurred to you that I haven't had the opportunity to fuck it up for you yet? Give me time, Snape." Seems I've learned at least one thing during potions over the years. I sound almost exactly like Snape when Neville's melted a cauldron.

"HARRY! That is enough! Don't think I don't know what you are doing. I've told you this before, I know I have. You can be as horrible to me as you want, it isn't going to change anything. I'm not going to leave, I'm not going to stop trying to help you, and I'm not going to believe a word you say! I don't know why you think you are unworthy of your godfather's love, but I know he isn't going to be scared off by a few angry words any more than I am. Obviously, he doesn't blame you for whatever it is you think you've done to him. Why do you blame yourself?" Snape has again turned me over to look at him. I hate him for it. Its so much easier to dismiss the things he says as lies when I'm not staring into his face, so full of sincerity.

"Because I was the one responsible. Sirius and Remus said so. They said it was up to me if that slimy little bastard lived, and I said he should. I gave Wormtail all the time he needed to get away. And then he went and found Voldemort, and its my fault!"

"Harry, as much as I know you don't want to hear this, what happened that night wasn't your fault. Perhaps if you'd sat down and plotted it out, and decided that you would free Pettigrew specifically so that he could go back to Voldemort, I would believe that it was your fault. But your intentions were good. I know that probably means very little to you right now, but in the long run, it means everything. Your intent reflects who you are far more than the outcome of your actions. You wanted to save a life. That is an admirable thing. Just because your act had unexpected results does not mean that your decision to save Pettigrew is any less noble. Events that are beyond your control do not reflect on your character. You seem to have this idea that the whole world rests on your shoulders, but it doesn't. It doesn't matter what you've heard or read or been told about what is expected of you. Its rubbish. All you have to do right now is try and get good grades and fly, if that is what you want to do, and try and have a little fun. Let the rest of the world take care of itself. You are only responsible for you, and I'm more than willing to share that responsibility, if you are willing to let me. You are a child, Harry, and I know that teenagers don't enjoy hearing it but it is true. You are not an adult and you do not have to pretend that you are. You have a few years left to be taken care of and not have to worry too much about the consequences of your actions. Maybe you've had to be a little more mature than the rest of your classmates, but to throw away the rest of your childhood in an attempt to save the world would be misguided, to say the very least. You won't be able to take an active role in fighting this war until you've learned a great deal more than you know now. Everyone understands that but you. You have to relax, let someone else take control for awhile, and stop thinking that the world is your responsibility. Voldemort may be out to get you, but he also has a lot of older, better prepared enemies who will do their best to make sure he doesn't come near you again. We are trying to protect you, Harry. All you have to do is let us."

I sit back against the pillows and attempt to give an adequate response. After a few minutes, it seems apparent to both Snape and I that I am unable to do so.

"Come on, Harry. What do you say we give this birthday thing another shot?"


	16. 16

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: I know this took forever, and I'm really sorry. I've had a serious case of writer's block, and I've been sitting at this damn computer for hours trying to get this done. Its 4:30 am and I haven't gone to sleep yet, see what I do for you? :) Anyway, I _promise_ it will not take this long for the next chapter. Sasina- I haven't had a chance to read your story yet, but I will, I promise!

Prophetess of Hearts- I'm sorry, but there won't be a snake. I just don't think I can write well for one, and I don't want it to sound incredibly cheesy or stupid when I try. Harry does get a new pet though, and I hope you like him!

This chapter is for Penguin Sasquatch, who has an incredibly cool screen name, and Magus, who motivated me to keep writing. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 16

I slide off of the bed, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to get rid of the remaining tears. Snape places a hand on my shoulder and steers me back into the living room. Hedwig swoops towards me from her perch on the back of one of the armchairs and lands gently on my shoulder. She twitters in my ear in obvious concern, and I grin. I reach up and playfully ruffle her feathers, and she seems satisfied that I am alright. Nipping my ear softly, she flies to the door and waits for Snape to open in for her. I sink back in my chair, allowing the warmth from the crackling fire to soothe some of my remaining tension. Behind me, I can hear the sound of Snape closing the door after Hedwig, and then a clanking noise that is explained when Snape places a cup of tea in my hand. This is the first time since the incident with Dumbledore that Snape has given me something to drink without taking some for himself, and I glance at him nervously before accepting it. For a moment, I simply sit and feel the heat radiating from the teacup, then I reluctantly lift it to my lips. The hot, sweet liquid settles deep into my stomach, and I release a breath when I realize that it has had no ill effects.

"Don't get too comfortable, we have things to do today!" It isn't until I force myself to open my eyes that I realize that I closed them. Snape is standing over me, laughing. I groan and stretch.

"Do I have to move to do these things? Because you know, it is my birthday, and I'm not sure that its fair to force me to move on my birthday. In fact, I think it would only be right if I spent the whole day in this chair." Snape chuckles again and yanks me to my feet, making me splash a bit of tea on the carpet. For the first time since I met him, Snape fails to notice a spill.

"Come on, Potter, I didn't even give you all your gifts yet! Get ready, we are going outside and it is pouring." I groan again and reach down to pull on my shoes. Snape comes over and pulls out his wand.

"Impervius," he mutters, tapping each shoe. I grin and hold out my cloak to him. He performs the same spell once more, and I throw the cloak over my shoulders.

"Thank you! Lets go!" Snape looks at me for a moment, and then grins.

"Harry, you do realize that you are still in your pajamas, right? And that there is not a chance that people will mistake fleece pants covered in rocket ships for the latest muggle fashion?" I chuckle.

"It is my _birthday_, Professor. You seem determined to take me outside in the pouring rain when I am perfectly content to curl up in front of the fire, but if you are going to force me into this, you and I are going to have to compromise. If I leave the dungeons, it will have to be in my pajamas. Believe it or not, Professor, I don't really care who sees me." Its amazing how self-conscious I can be about the most ordinary things, and then be willing to do something most people would consider absolutely ridiculous. Still, I'm comfortable, and though I am not entirely happy, I can't ignore my gratitude towards Professor Snape and the fact that he is trying so hard to give me a happy birthday makes me determined to enjoy the day.

Snape rolls his eyes at me, then grabs his cloak and leads me out of the door. The portrait yells a good morning to us as we leave, but Snape doesn't bother responding. He stalks through the halls with the same intensity he uses during the school year, but what I might have once taken for anger, I'm beginning to suspect is merely enthusiasm. Granted, the enthusiasm is still generally directed at catching rule-breakers and handing out detentions, but it is a relief to realize that Snape is not always as furious as he appears. 

I find my own excitement growing as I follow Snape not to the front entrance to the school as I had expected, but to a back door. Where ever he is taking me, we clearly are not leaving Hogwarts grounds. Snape walks quickly across the muddy grass, paying no attention to the rain that pounds down on both of us. In fact, Snape's intensity is complimented by this atmosphere, it makes him look more intimidating and foreboding than I have ever seen him. I, on the other hand, have to struggle to keep up, the wind pushing me backwards almost as quickly as I'm able to move forward. Despite the summer heat, the rain soaks into my skin and makes me shiver. Finally, after what seems like hours, we stop in front of Hagrid's hut.

Snape stares for a few seconds at the tiny shack, disdain written across his face. For just a moment, I find the old resent towards my professor building inside me. The expression on his face is the same one I have seen on Malfoy's, at every Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and despite everything Snape has done for me, despite all I have learned about him, I cannot help but become angry. Then, Snape's expression changes. The scorn fades away, and his face is again unreadable. I am grateful, in a way, for this reminder that Snape is as human as I am, that he has his faults as well. It would be so easy, after all he has done for me, to put him on a pedestal, to ignore his mistakes and pretend not to notice when he does something wrong. It is the way I thought of Dumbledore, until the potion incident, and I think part of the reason that it was so hard for me to accept that Dumbledore had made a mistake was because I had never been forced to see him as human before. Nothing had ever been his fault before, nothing that had happened at Hogwarts was directly Dumbledore's fault. In fact, his failure to recognize that Quirrel couldn't be trusted, or that Moody wasn't really Moody at all just served to accent his good qualities. He is a trusting man, he gives people a chance when others would not, it even occurred to me at one point that he let me prove myself. As if I should thank him, for sending me to face Quirrel. Maybe I should, I don't know. It certainly taught me a few things, things I'll need to know when I face Voldemort again. But everything he has ever done was called into question when I was faced with the irrefutable evidence that Dumbledore did, indeed have faults. I don't want that to happen with Snape. As much as it upsets me that Snape has such contempt for Hagrid, that he is quite obviously judging the man by stupid, insignificant material items, it is a great relief to know that I can still see him as human. 

Snape notices my stare, and meets my eyes for a second before walking on, up to Hagrid's door. I wonder if he can read my emotion on my face, as I am learning to do with him. I wonder if it would upset him to know that I was angry with him, just a second ago. I wonder if he would be ashamed of having been caught showing contempt for a man based solely on his possessions. I think he would be. Snape may know that he has faults, but he is intensely private about anything that could be conceived as a weakness. It is difficult to imagine him, even as a child, spilling out everything he believed himself guilty of to Professor Dumbledore, as he encourages me to do with him. It is important, I think, that I know Snape would recognize his pretentiousness as a fault. That is the difference between Snape and Malfoy. Malfoy sees his arrogance as confidence, and well-deserved confidence at that. Snape, on the other hand, sees it for what it is, and tries to correct it. That much is obvious to me as we step over the threshold of the cabin. Snape's eyes flick over the meager furnishings for a moment, before Snape actually shakes his head to clear away his negative thoughts, and then turns to face me. 

"Well? Are you coming in or not?" I glance nervously inside before stepping in. Hagrid is not home, which does not surprise me. Snape had the courtesy to ask me if I wanted to see Dumbledore and if I minded if Dobby came by, I don't imagine that he would surprise me with a visit to Hagrid. Instead, when I step into the house- which seems much larger when Hagrid isn't occupying half of the space- I find a tiny hippogriff, a baby.

"I found him when I was out looking for some potions ingredients one day. Some people keep hippogriffs as pets, because they think they are pretty and they don't believe the things they are told about them being dangerous. I think someone's hippogriff got pregnant, and they didn't want to deal with a baby, so they dumped it. You can't keep him in the castle, not once the term starts, anyway, but Hagrid will be back by then, and able to look after him for you. He said he would. He won't be able to survive on his own, hippogriffs have to be taught how to hunt by others of their kind, it isn't innate like in most animals. Domestic hippogriffs can never be freed. I thought maybe you would like someone to talk to, in case I'm not available or if you want someone who can't answer back. I know you have Hedwig, but owls are different, they understand everything you say, and they'll let you know exactly how they feel about it. Hippogriffs don't do that, or at least not as much. As long as you don't say anything insulting, they are content to just sit and listen. Anyway, I thought if you didn't want him, he would at least have Hagrid..."

I grin widely at Snape. "Not want him? Of course I want him! He's beautiful! Professor, I don't know what to say, this is the best birthday I have ever had! What is his name?" I walk cautiously over to my new companion, careful not to upset him. He remains curled up on Hagrid's bed, and does not even move away when I carefully begin to stroke his head.

"He doesn't have a name yet, I thought you should name him. He is yours, after all. You really like him?" Snape looks so relieved that I am tempted to laugh. It probably isn't often that Snape goes out of his way to make someone else happy, however, and I feel a need to reassure him that his efforts have not been in vain.

"I love him," I answer softly, staring down at the tiny bundle of feathers and fur. I run my hand over the soft mixture of gray and black that comprises the creature, and rack my brain for a suitable name. "Quirinus," I try, and the animal lifts his head for the first time. The expression on his face is one of unmistakable disgust. Snape, I note, is wearing the same expression. "What? What is wrong with Quirinus? He was a god, you know, and a warrior!" Snape snorts softly, looking at the baby hippogriff. "Alright, so maybe it doesn't suit him. He doesn't look like a fighter, does he?" The hippogriff is beginning to look offended, and I'm suddenly very glad that it is nowhere near as large as Buckbeak. "How about... Craddock? Is that okay?" Snape looks skeptical, but my new hippogriff curls back up on the bed, looking content. I take that as a sign of acceptance. "Craddock it is, then!" This time, Snape visibly winces.

"Where on earth did you hear that name?" Snape's voice is bordering on mocking, and I'm struck by a sudden urge to smack him across the face.

"I think I was reading something for History of Magic or something, I'm not sure. I cam across it when I was studying, in any case. I like it!" Snape sighs and throws up his hands in defeat.

"Alright, alright, you like it, he likes it, I can see I'm outvoted. Pick up... Craddock... He is staying with us until Hagrid returns. But after that, he isn't allowed in the castle, okay?" I nod, and grin, scooping up the tiny body. The walk to the castle doesn't seem half as bad with the small hippogriff radiating warmth into me, bundled up beneath my cloak.


	17. 17

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: GAH! Another horribly late chapter.... I'm so sorry. I started school a few weeks ago, and the workload is horrible, even on weekends. When I'm not doing work, I'm sleeping or eating. It is my own fault for signing up for too many difficult classes. Bah! Anyway, I'm really sorry, and I'm going to aim for an update a week, but no guarantees. This chapter is for Sarah x, because I promised it to her a week ago and didn't have any time to work on it. Oh, and Craddock is a Welsh name, meaning loved. I thought it was appropriate, if not particularly pretty. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 17

Craddock snuggles up against me as I sleep, and I feel utterly content. I don't think that Professor Snape really understands what an amazing gift he gave me. Craddock is not like Hedwig, not in the least. Hedwig is a friend, my equal. Where Hedwig would bristle at the term 'pet,' Craddock is undeniable thrilled by it. He likes to curl up in my lap, but he always accepts it when I tell him to wait, or leave him alone for a few hours. Rather than being angry at me for deserting him, he is simply delighted that I return. Craddock has his quirks, of course, and he isn't always happy with me, but I only have to ask forgiveness for it to be granted. Even Snape has been seen cuddling up to Craddock in the evening, a sight which I'm sure would convince Ron that Snape was actually someone quite different who had taken a large dose of Polyjuice.

I cringe and roll over, despite Craddock's protests. I haven't sent Ron or Hermione thank-you notes yet, and I imagine they are beginning to worry about me. My birthday was nearly a week ago. I grumble a bit, and force myself out of the bed. If I don't write them now, I probably never will. I was going to, on my birthday, but Dobby came, and then there was dinner in the Great Hall, and I was just so tired when it was all done. I'm still tired, as a matter of fact, but I think I can manage a few short notes. I don't need to tell them anything. I can't say anything important, not in a letter. I grab my quill and some parchment and sit down at the desk. I'll write to Ron first. Its always easier to talk to Ron. He sees less, he doesn't press me for answers. Hermione will, if my tone seems off. I dip my quill in the inkwell and begin to write.

__

Ron-

Thanks for the gift, I'm sure I'll find a lot of use for it around here. Can you imagine what would happen if I tried to slip Snape a Ton-Tongue Toffee? Actually, it isn't so bad here. The castle is pretty much empty, and its big enough that I can avoid anyone I don't want to see. Its definitely better than staying with the Dursleys. Its okay for you to write to me now, you don't have to send it through Dumbledore anymore. I know you want to know why I'm here, I'll explain everything when you arrive. Thanks again for the gift.

~Harry

P.S.- Do you think Dumbledore would get mad if I turned his hair blue? I don't really want to wait for you to get back to try this stuff out...

It will work, I suppose. He'll wonder why it took me so long to reply, but I don't think he'll mention it. I don't feel comfortable telling him that he can write to me directly, but I think at this point it is something I have to do. In a few short weeks, school will begin again. I will have to face my friends directly, explain to them what happened this year. I won't be able to hide in Professor Snape's rooms if someone makes an upsetting remark. I have to be able to handle it. I sigh and pull out another bit of parchment, and carefully construct my letter to Hermione.

__

Hermione-

I'm sorry it took me so long to reply to you. I promise I'll explain everything when you return to Hogwarts. As a prefect, no less! Congratulations! I happen to know who the other Gryffindor prefect is but I think I ought to let it be a surprise. Don't worry, even Dumbledore isn't crazy enough to put Ron or I in that kind of position! Thank you for the book. I've read a bit of it, and I really like it. Its amazing how many similarities there are between Muggle fairy tales and wizard fairy tales. I suppose that some things are common to all people, regardless of magical ability. I'm sorry I can't offer you any better of an explanation for what I've been doing all summer, but I promise, I'm much happier here at Hogwarts than I would have been with my aunt and uncle. And I'm very grateful that Professor Snape took time out of his schedule to take me to Diagon Alley. Just don't tell Ron that I expressed anything resembling gratitude towards Snape. He'll think Snape has me under Imperius or something! You can write directly to me now, and I'll try to respond more quickly. But I'll be seeing you soon, in any case! 

~Harry

This note is much less effective. Hermione will over-analyze and worry and probably incite Ron to worry as well. But at the very least, I trust her to respect my wishes and not direct any questions towards me until I see her return to Hogwarts. At which time, she will probably pause only to make sure that I am in good health before attacking me and demanding answers. Hermione is not one known for her patience.

I set aside the second bit of parchment, and begin to put away my things. There is one letter, though, that I have failed to respond to. Probably the person most deserving of an answer. Sirius cares about me. I'm worrying him, upsetting him, and I'm making it much worse by not communicating with him. I'm not ready to deal with everything my godfather will want to talk to me about, but at the very least, I owe him thanks for his concern. I should do what I can to ease his worry. I reach hesitantly for a third piece of parchment and begin to write.

__

Snuffles-

I'm not entirely sure I know what to say to you right now. It isn't so much that I don't want to explain to you why I did what I did, its mostly that I don't know how. What I do know of my own reasoning is difficult to vocalize, and some of it I don't think I understand myself. All that I really know is that Professor Snape understands. I know you care about me, Snuffles, and I'm so glad. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want to hurt you. I'm just trying to understand all this myself, and I don't know that I could even begin to try explaining it to anyone else. But thank you for writing to me. Thank you for saying that you care about me. I need to here that every once in awhile. I'm sorry that I'm hurting you. I don't want to upset you. There are just some things I'm not ready to face yet.

~Harry

It's inadequate. I know that it is inadequate, but it is the best that I can do. I really don't know what to say or do, I just know that it will be worse if I say nothing. I can feel myself losing nerve as I sit and stare at the letter, so I grab it and stand. I walk as quietly as I can into the living room and open the door. I take a deep breath and reach into my pajama top. Pulling out the owl charm, I rub quickly, fiercely, before I can change my mind. Each second that I stand there, chilled by the night air breezing through the dungeon, I become more and more convinced that this is a bad idea.

Finally, Hedwig swoops down, looking me over with concern. Having established that I am physically safe, she coos encouragingly in my ear. My fingers tremble as I tie the letter to her leg. When I'm sure it is secure, I send her rather brusquely on her way. Hedwig seems to understand my insecurities, however, and simply nips me affectionately on the ear, and soars off. My nerves do not dissipate with Hedwig's departure, however, and my hands are still trembling as I push the door closed. I turn to return to my bed and let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Harry? What is going on? Why are you out of bed?" Snape is leaning against the door to his bedroom, looking at me in concern. I attempt to smile at him, but a combination of nerves and exhaustion has taken its toll on me, and I find myself fighting off an inexplicable urge to cry. In an instant, Snape is beside me, guiding me back to my room and tucking me into bed. "What is it, Harry? Did you have another nightmare?" Snape's tone is almost desperate now, and I have the odd impulse to smile.

"No, no, it wasn't a nightmare. I was just answering the letters I got on my birthday and..." I trail off.

"Sirius." Snape says it frankly, without malice. I'm amazed to hear my godfather's first name cross Snape's lips.

  
"Yes. I answered his letter, as best I could. I think I owe him that much. But I had to send it with Hedwig quickly, before I lost my nerve. I feel terrible about that, Professor. It shouldn't take so much effort for me to write a short note to my godfather." Snape sighs, and reaches out to lay a reassuring hand on my arm.

"Harry, you are hardly writing to him in what one could consider normal circumstances. You haven't had very much time to learn about your godfather, and while I know you care about him deeply, you really don't know much about each other at all. Your still learning what to say and what not to say with him, and that kind of thing takes a long time to develop. It's only natural for you to be unsure about what to say to him. Being nervous only means that you care what he thinks of you, that you care about him." 

"I guess so... Its just so hard..." Snape smiles down at me.

"It will get easier, Harry, I promise. Maybe not right away. Maybe not for a long time. But eventually, you'll be more confident, more able to communicate with your godfather and your friends." I grimace and slide deeper into the covers on my bed.

"I don't have a long time, Professor. I have until September 1. Its only a few weeks." 

"And its only a few hours until morning. You have a potions lesson tomorrow, and I want you to be able to concentrate. I know you are worried, Harry, but trust me, you'll be able to handle it when the time comes. For now, just go to sleep and try not to think about it. I'll stay until you fall asleep."

It seems like it has been a long time since Snape sat beside me, waiting for me to drift off. Tonight I'm glad he's here. I'm glad that he heard me get up, that he is still watching out for me. I'm glad that Craddock waited for me in my bed and that he is curling up against me and easing some of my remaining tension. I force my remaining doubts out of my mind and settle in to sleep. 


	18. 18

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so it took a little longer than I expected. I'm sorry. I'm trying, I really am. Anyway, thank you for your wonderful reviews, as always. As for my one dissatisfied reader, well... Let me just say that my goal is not and never has been to imitate J.K. Rowling's writing. I admire her, yes, and I enjoy her work, but as far as I'm concerned, the point of fanfiction is to take characters that you haven't created and place them in situations that you DO create. I know that Harry Potter is not going to attempt suicide in the next book. But I also think that it is an interesting situation to explore, and since Rowling won't do it, why shouldn't I? Frankly, I think it is asinine to limit oneself to what is or what will be, rather than discovering what could be. Thank you for the review nonetheless. I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter, and once again (as always, it seems) I'm very sorry for the delay in updating.

Chapter 18

I stand over the simmering cauldron, stirring gently and steadily. Professor Snape sits at the front of the room, busily preparing lessons for the approaching school year. The steady bubbling of the healing draught is calming, and I know that I will miss this, when the school year begins. I will miss the opportunity to stand in an almost silent room, not worrying about anything but when to add the next ingredient and which direction to stir. Tomorrow, the school will open, and hundreds of students will pour in, holding screaming conversations, fighting to be the loudest, to be heard over all the others. Tonight, I will move all of my things back into Gryffindor Tower, as Dumbledore asked. Tonight, I will face my first night alone since I tried to kill myself. I won't really be alone, of course. Extra wards were placed on the tower, Professor Snape will probably be monitoring them all night. 

I won't last the year, I'm sure of it. Professor Snape keeps telling me that it will get easier, that I will adjust quickly to being surrounded by people who don't understand me anymore and pretending that I'm still one of them. I don't believe him. How can I? Just the thought of spending a night alone makes me feel slightly nauseated. Its ridiculous. One summer with Snape and all of a sudden the thought of a few minutes alone makes me want to jump out the nearest window. All the progress I thought I made is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Potter!" My head snaps up and I stare in front of me in pure confusion. Snape is looking at me with loathing written all across his face. I flinch involuntarily, and Snape's face relaxes back into the concerned, friendly look I've adjusted to. "Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought we ought to get used to playing our old roles before school starts. You can't look hurt every time your bastard of a teacher glares at you, people will get suspicious."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," I whisper, looking back down into the cauldron. No wonder Snape called my name, my potion was giving off a horrible smell. I must have forgotten to add the spleens. Quickly, I add a few mint leaves to neutralize some of the more noxious products of my mistake and resume stirring. 

"Harry? Look, I know you are worried about tomorrow, but its no use trying to avoid me. You have been doing it all week, don't think I haven't noticed. Talk to me." Snape's voice is soft and demanding, but I don't really want to talk to him. I have to learn to work through this myself. Snape is not going to be able to do this tomorrow or the next day, I will be alone. And I need to figure this out. Alone.

"You're right, I'm a little worried about school starting, but I'll be okay. Its nothing." Snape looks at me skeptically.

"Nothing? Harry, I'm worried too. It isn't nothing to me. I've spent all summer with you, getting to know you. Albus and Minerva may very well have been the only two people I trusted, the only two I considered friends, and then we just got stuck together. At first it was a duty, I was repaying a debt, but Harry, I genuinely care about you. I like having you around. I even like the damn hippogriff, and if you ever tell anyone what I just told you, I will hex you with something so ghastly that you will have to spend a month in the hospital wing."

"Might not be so bad," I grumble. "Compared to Gryffindor Tower."

"You know, just because we can't be seen being friendly doesn't mean we can never talk. If you are feeling overwhelmed, or if you want to get away, you can always come down to our rooms. I'll never change the password without telling you. And you can always where that damn invisibility cloak if you are worried about being seen. Besides, the year will be over before you know it, and you are more than welcome to spend next summer with me, if you'd like, and if your relatives agree."

"Really? I can stay with you again? You don't mind?" I struggle to fight a grin, and realize with a start that I find the expression almost as detestable as Snape seems to.

"Only if it is okay with your aunt and uncle. Don't get too excited, Harry, they might want you to stay with them. After all, they never get to see you. You stay with Weasley and Granger here at Hogwarts for the holidays, and-"

"They don't want me there," I interrupt. "Trust me. They have never wanted me there. I imagine they were delighted when they woke up one morning and discovered me gone." Professor Snape stares at me for a moment.

"What do you mean? Harry, they are your aunt and uncle. Certainly they weren't happy to find out that you were so miserable! I'm sure Albus had to put up quite a fight to make sure that you could stay here." I let out a derisive snort.

"The only thing my aunt and uncle could have been unhappy about was my failure to finish what I started. I suppose they probably hate you for stopping me, but then, they would have hated you anyway. They hate all of us freaks. Anything to do with magic. They were terribly disappointed when they realized that keeping me in a perpetual state of depression had done nothing to make me more normal." The bitterness in my own voice is a bit surprising, but not undeserved. The Durselys have made my life hell for as long as I can remember.

"Harry! You make it sound like your aunt and uncle rival Voldemort in their cruelty! I know that Albus would never have forced you to stay with them if they were so horrible."

"They aren't as cruel as Voldemort. They don't have enough power to be that cruel, and maybe they wouldn't be anyway. All I know is that even Voldemort does not hate me as much as my aunt and uncle do. Look, I don't really want to discuss this with you. I'm at Hogwarts now, and I won't have to deal with them again until summer, and maybe not even then, if you will let me stay with you. So, my family isn't exactly nice. So what. I'll live. Right now, all I'm worried about is getting through the day tomorrow." My anger and frustration is building with every word I speak. I have spent all my time with Snape, told him everything he wanted to know, everything except about the Dursleys. And now, when I finally feel comfortable enough to begin talking about them, he doesn't believe me. How dare he? How dare he give me that shit about learning to trust me, and then turn around and throw my trust in him right back in my face? I slam my hands down on the desk, turn and stalk out of the room. I don't bother looking back to see if Snape is following.

I storm down the hall towards Gryffindor Tower. Its a pointless gesture, since Snape can just as easily get into the Tower as he can his own rooms. All the heads of house know the passwords to the dorms of each house. I pound up the stairs to the bed that has been mine for four years and throw myself into it, closing the curtains around me. It will only be a matter of minutes before Snape comes into the room, only a few minutes of peace before he begins demanding answers. I bury my face deep in my pillow and shut my eyes tightly. The scarlet that pervades the dorm pounds against my eyelids, and I can see the deep, angry color taunting me, even as I shut myself off to it. Red is not a good color for me. It should be. Red should be energetic, happy. Red should be life. Red should not be spilt blood on pale skin, ugly stains on a silver knife. Red should be temptation, yes, but temptation for life, for passion. Red should not be enticement towards death.

But it is. I've corrupted it, tainted it with my own misery, and now it is reaching out to me with an offer nearly impossible to resist. I've imbued it with myself, the part of myself that I have been struggling with all summer. I've tried to repress it, to ignore it, to overcome it, and now I want nothing more than to accept it. What guarantee do I have that this blackness is not an intrinsic part of who I am? How do I know that fighting this pain is not simply creating more pain? Where is all of the progress that I have supposedly made? If all that I've worked for, all that I've spent months building, can disappear in an instant, how do I know that it isn't better to simply stop working? What reason do I have to keep trying?

Snape yanks the curtains around my bed open, his mouth in a grim line and his eyes livid. "You CANNOT run from me every time we come to a subject that you do not wish to discuss! I will not chase you all over the castle to get the answers to a few basic questions, and I certainly will not tolerate temper tantrums! I don't understand what your reaction tonight was about, but it is not my job to coerce you into telling me." Snape is as close to screeching as I have ever heard him. He pauses his diatribe to take a breath, and I take the opportunity to interject.

"You are right, Professor. It isn't your job. In fact, I am hardly your responsibility. Nor are you mine. I do not exist as a tool to help you assuage your guilt. Whatever debt you feel you owe, I suggest you find another way to pay it. I will not be the means with which you ease your conscience. You told me you wanted to help me, and I believed you. That was my mistake. You told me you understood me, but it is apparent that you do not. You claim that you have begun to trust me, but you question everything that I say. Clearly, this arrangement is not working in the best interest of either of us. Tomorrow, we will go back to our prescribed roles. I think that will be for the best. Until then, I suggest that we avoid contact with each other, for both of our sakes." I try and keep my tone as calm and detached as possible, but I can hear the quiver in my voice. I avoid looking at Snape, which is in itself an admission of my own weakness. I am furious, certainly, but I am also hurt, and I don't want him to know that. I don't want to know it myself, but I really don't have much of a choice. 

"Harry... Harry, I didn't mean that. You scared me, running off like that. I didn't know where you were going or what you had in mind. As for doubting you... Harry, hearing that your relatives mistreat you is being told that Albus Dumbledore placed a child, one of his students in danger. Its not that I don't believe you, it is just difficult to comprehend that the headmaster may have made a mistake. You can understand that, can't you? If I came to you and told you that Albus stood back and watched me be tormented for a few years, wouldn't you have difficulty believing me? Wouldn't you try and find out if there had been some sort of misunderstanding or miscommunication? I know that you wouldn't lie to me. But I also know that Albus would never intentionally place you in a situation where your health was in danger. What you are telling me about your relatives seems to suggest that both of those things can't be true. And they are, I know they are. I just can't figure out how." I look up at Snape. He appears genuinely sorry for upsetting me, and I begin to feel guilty for speaking to him the way that I did.

"Well... It isn't like they hit me or anything. They just, you know, make me do chores and things like that. They used to make me sleep in the cupboard, but I have my own room now. They don't hurt me, not really. Mostly they yell, tell me what a huge favor they are doing me by providing me with a place to sleep and food and my cousin's hand-me-down clothes. It is just a little rough, being constantly berated for things beyond my control, told that I'm not as good as them, that I'm abnormal. I know the headmaster meant well when he put me with them. I don't think he really understands how much they upset me." Snape looks angry again, and a shrink back, not frightened, exactly, but nervous.

"He should have CHECKED, damn it! He should have watched them, should have made sure that you were being taken care of. It doesn't matter whether or not they hit you, the fact that they would tell a child that he was not good enough for them is more than enough reason to remove the child from their care. Its ridiculous! What kind of monster keeps a child in a cupboard? Why didn't you tell me about them sooner, Harry? I'm tempted to go find them now and teach them exactly what a wizard is capable of!" Snape is pacing the small area in front of my bed furiously, and I'm afraid that if he gets anymore upset windows might start shattering.

"Look, its okay. There is no permanent damage, and you told me I could stay with you next summer. I won't have to deal with them again for a long time. So, Dumbledore made a mistake. He's human. Mostly. I think. Well, he's capable of making mistakes, anyway. Its nice that you want to defend me, but I don't want you to hurt the Dursleys, or anyone else, for that matter. They aren't very nice people, but the best thing for them, and for you and I, is to simply ignore them. That is what would make me the happiest." I speak softly trying to mollify Snape's anger. It appears to work, and he takes a deep breath.

"All right. I won't hurt them. But I am going to speak to Albus. Leaving you with your aunt and uncle without checking up on you was unforgivably irresponsible of him."

"Agreed." The headmaster steps inside the doorway, shaking his head apologetically. "I sincerely hope that you will forgive me, Harry, I had no idea that your aunt and uncle were treating you with such contempt."

"Of course, sir..." I murmur, taken aback by the headmaster's sudden appearance in my room.

"And I hope you will both forgive my intrusion. I went to the dungeons to ask if you would be joining us for lunch. When I saw that you were not in the room, I became a bit concerned. It was quite obvious that you left with some haste, as I have never before known Severus to leave his labs in less than pristine conditions. But it seems that I have found you just in time, lunch should be being served as we speak. Care to join me in the Great Hall?" Professor Snape rolls his eyes, exasperated as always with the headmaster's perpetually cheerful manner.

"I'd love to join you, Professor." I jump off the bed and walk past Snape, smiling slightly in his direction. He throws up his hands in mock frustration and follows me out of the room. My situation has not changed at all, but I nevertheless feel a little bit more confident about facing school tomorrow.


	19. 19

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Well, there is finally another chapter. I know, I'm amazed too. But I have the whole week off, and nothing better to do with my time, so you may even get a second chapter this week! I hope you enjoy this one, I've been struggling for awhile with this scene.... Thank you for your wonderful reviews, this chapter is for LegacyLady, who's liberal use of exclamation points makes me feel loved. Hope you like the chapter!

Chapter 19

The doors open slowly, and the hoards of children outside begin pushing themselves through as soon as there is space. Grinning, laughing, and cheerfully discussing their marvelous summers, the group is utterly terrifying. They make their way slowly towards me, the mass of them looming before me like some grotesque, many-headed monster. They have the same ability to inspire irrational and all-consuming fear that is innate to circus clowns. You know, when you see them, that there is something horribly dark and malicious just beneath the surface, because no one is that jovial naturally. It's a veil for something I'd rather not see, even though I know it exists.

"HARRY!" Hermione rushes forward, separating herself from the bizarre group moving steadily towards the Great Hall. She throws her arms around me, and I feel myself flinching despite my best efforts to the contrary. Ron stands behind Hermione, an odd expression on his face. "Oh, Harry, I was so worried when you didn't answer your letters, and then I got the owl from Dumbledore telling me you were safe, and it made me feel a bit better, of course, but its not the same as hearing it from you! You are okay, aren't you?" Hermione pulls away from me, looking rather flustered.

"I'm fine, Hermione. I'll tell you about my summer later, but if we don't go now, we'll miss the feast. I wanted to wait until we could have some privacy, and I'd much rather hear about your summers, anyway." Hermione smiles at me, relief obvious in her eyes, but Ron simply turns and begins walking towards the Great Hall. He hasn't said a word to me since he arrived, and as uncomfortable as my conversation with Hermione has made me, Ron's silence is even more disconcerting. Hermione casts a brief, inquiring look first at me, then Ron, but I don't know how to answer it, and Ron just ignores her. 

"Well," Hermione begins hesitantly, "I had a great summer, Harry..." I attempt an encouraging smile, and Hermione grins back as we begin loading our plates with food. "My parents finally decided that I was old enough to go out on my own a bit, so I got to go to all sorts of museums that they don't really enjoy. One of the tour guides at the British Museum told me that I should apply for a job there, since I probably know the museum as well as most of the staff now. I think I might, next summer. Can you imagine how amazing it would be, Harry, to have the resources of the British Museum at my disposal? Its all Muggle things, of course, so there are huge gaps in their library, but still, it would just be amazing!" Hermione's voice is getting louder and louder as her excitement grows, and her eyes are bright and wide. I smile a bit at her enthusiasm, and glance over just in time to see Ron doing the same. He looks at me for a second, that same queer expression on his face, then looks away. I frown, and glance up to the staff table. Snape catches my eye, just for a second, and my stomach feels a little less heavy. Scanning the table, it is difficult to miss the fact that Hagrid has returned. He too, catches my eye, and smiles, a wide, enthusiastic smile that for some reason makes me feel terribly guilty.

"That sounds wonderful, Hermione." My voice is weak and insincere, and Hermione and Ron both send piercing looks in my direction. "Are you done eating yet?" I tremble even as I ask them. I don't want to tell them the truth, I don't want them to know why I've been here all summer, and I don't want to answer their questions, but I know that I have to. They nod yes, and I am grateful for their silence, though it is tense and a bit nerve-wracking. I look up at the staff table again, and make a brief motion for Hagrid to come with us. Together, Hermione, Ron and I rise. Hermione tells the curious Gryffindors that we just want to go somewhere quiet to catch up. Another cautious glance towards the head table, and I can see that Hagrid is also making his excuses. I don't dare look at Snape again, the four of us leaving together is suspicious enough.

Hermione falls behind me as we step outside the doors, and I can feel her questioning stares on my back. Ron, on the other hand, appears to be less than anxious to hear what I have to say. I can hear his feet dragging slowly across the floor, and I imagine that the startled "Oomph!" that I hear and the quickening of pace that follows is a result of Hermione's sharp elbow again finding Ron's ribs. Hermione has amazing aim with her elbows, its a shame she doesn't have the same ability in the Quidditch pitch.

I really should turn around, just for a second, and tell Ron and Hermione where we are going. I know that I should, and I know that Hermione is terribly worried about me, but I can't find words to reassure her. I can't tear my thoughts away from the words I'll have to say to them, to all three of them, to somehow explain the events of the summer. Snape has already coached me, a bit. He told me not to expect them to understand, or relate. All I can ask is that they support me, and Snape has assured me that he is confident that they will. Granted, his assurance was given by rather insultingly comparing Ron to a baby duck following his mother and Hermione to a trained monkey, and didn't even touch on the subject of Hagrid, save for a grumbled "too easy," when I pressed him, but I got the point.

I push open the huge doors that lead on to the Hogwarts grounds and stop a moment to adjust to the cool night air. Hagrid is waiting for us here, and I nod in greeting before continuing towards his home. Behind me, I can hear Hagrid quietly telling Ron and Hermione where I am taking them, and that he knows nothing more than they do about what I have to say to them. Hagrid's loyalty is unparalleled, and when he wants to, he can show amazing insight. Tonight, as I listen to Hagrid encouraging Hermione to give me space, and wait until I'm ready to talk, I'm grateful to him once more. Hagrid stays behind me, murmuring softly to my two best friends, until we reach his home. I step back and let him push open the heavy door, then, with a brief nod of thanks, step into the room.

Craddock lays curled on Hagrid's giant table, and raises his head in acknowledgement as I enter. I walk over to him and stroke him lightly, while Hagrid mutters something about having told the beast a million times to stay off of his table. The words are muttered with distracted affection, and Craddock merely stretches himself out to cover even more space. His small body can't begin to cover more than a tenth of the table, but he certainly does his best to take up as much room as he can. I smile down at my pet, and speak without looking away from him. "Ron, Hermione, this is Craddock. He was a birthday present from a friend of mine, and Hagrid is letting him stay here." 

"Oh, Harry, he's beautiful," Hermione gasps, walking forward and hesitantly bowing down in front of Craddock. I let out a small chuckle, and Craddock shoots me an unmistakable glare before laboring onto his tiny feet and giving Hermione a shaky bow of his own. Before he can repeat the procedure with Ron, I scoop him up into my arms and settle down into one of Hagrid's massive chairs. Craddock doesn't appear to be quite ready to forgive me for laughing at him, but a well-placed scratch under the chin quickly solves that problem. Ron and Hermione sit near me, neither saying a word, and Hagrid hands us steaming teacups before settling into the only remaining chair.

"I want," I begin, "to tell you what happened this summer. And I want to make you understand, but I don't know that you can or will. Maybe it's better if you don't. All I ask is that you don't interrupt me, and that you don't say anything that you don't mean. This is very difficult for me, and I'm not entirely sure how to tell you in the first place, without worrying about questions or reactions before I'm finished. Okay?" I look at the three of them in the face, one by one, and they nod their acceptance.

"After the Triwizard Tournament... After Cedric... It was hard for me. I know you all know that, but I don't know if you understand how hard it was. I mean, how could you? You weren't there, you didn't... You didn't see his body on the ground, you didn't hear Voldemort's complete lack of regard for life. It was awful. And the more I thought about it, and it seemed I couldn't help thinking about it, the more I realized that it was my fault. I told Cedric to take the cup with me. It was me that Voldemort wanted, not Cedric. Just being near me was enough to get Cedric killed. At first, I think I knew I wasn't being rational. I knew that Voldemort had ordered Cedric's death, that I wasn't the person who actually spoke the words of the killing curse, but after awhile, it all got sort of blurred. Guilt does that to you, if you feel it strongly enough. I was able to distract myself, distance myself from it while I was here at Hogwarts. But when I went back to the Dursley's, I had nothing else to think about. I became... well, obsessed, really, and I couldn't escape the images in my mind of Cedric's death, constant nightmares and pictures in the back of my mind even while I was awake. I started thinking about other things, too. About Pettigrew. About Quirrel. About all the times I've landed one of you in the hospital wing. It all seemed to lead back to me, and finally it became too much. I don't want to hurt anyone, least of all, any of you. But it seemed like my very existence was doing just that. The real reason that I was brought back to Hogwarts wasn't because of some threat from Voldemort. I tried to kill myself this summer. That's why they brought me back here."

Hermione gasps, and Hagrid makes a noise that is somewhere between a cough and a sob. Only Ron doesn't make a sound. He sits with his back unnaturally straight, his expression unchanged. I watch him closely for a moment, but I can see Hermione preparing herself to ask me questions, and I have to get the rest of the story out now, before I lose my courage.

"I don't think very many people on the staff know what happened. The person who found me knows, and Madame Pomfrey, because she had to heal me, and of course Professor Dumbledore, but I think that's it. There is kind of a system of wards set up around the Dursley's, and one of them was alerted when I tried to off myself. It sounded only to the professor who set it up to begin with, and he came immediately to the Dursley's and stopped me. In fact, he did much more than that. He took me back to Hogwarts, and when I realized that Dumbledore couldn't fully understand the position that I was in, he stepped forward. He's been taking care of me all summer, and I think we've really gotten to know each other and trust each other. He's really very-"

"Snape," Ron growls angrily. "Just spit it out, its Snape isn't it? You've spent all summer with the greasy bastard, telling him everything you never told your best friends, and what do you think he'll do with it, Harry? Did he tell you it would be okay, that he would look out for you? How much does he have to put you through before you realize the truth? Your own godfather has told you not to trust the man, he's berated you constantly since you began here, and all of a sudden, he's become the shoulder you cry on? You're an idiot if you think he won't use this against you. And when he does, just remember who you chose to confide in. Remember how you turned away from your best friend in favor of that bloody monster. I've heard enough of your self-pitying bullshit. Good night."

Ron turned and stalks angrily out of the hut, and with an anguished look at me, Hermione runs after him. Only Hagrid remains with me, sipping his tea pensively and casting long looks in my direction. "They'll come around Harry. Just you wait and see." I nod briefly, feeling tears come to my eyes. Snape promised me they would try. He said telling it would be the hard part, that afterwards Ron and Hermione would do everything they could for me. Clearly, he was mistaken. Ron and Hermione don't care at all. And why should they? Ron is right, I did desert them. But why should he begrudge me the chance to talk to someone who can actually relate? Angry and confused, I set Craddock down on the floor and bid Hagrid good night. I can't go back to Gryffindor tower just yet, not when I am still so close to tears. Besides, I don't want to risk running into Ron. Instead, I turn and go to the one place I know that Ron will never set foot, back to the dungeons to talk to Snape. 


	20. 20

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Okay, this is a short chapter, but at least I got it up quickly, right? The next chapter will probably take a couple of weeks b/c of school, so apologies in advance! Thanks again to all my reviewers, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. 

Chapter Twenty

I enter Snape's chambers quickly, not wanting to risk being seen. The living room is cold, and it is apparent that Snape has not yet returned. With a quick flick of my wrist and a muttered "incendio," I light a fire, and then collapse into a chair. I'm shocked and hurt by my friend's behavior, and I can't even begin to imagine a way to fix it. I spoke to them honestly, explained the situation to the best of my ability, and it wasn't enough. Ron... I don't know what to think about Ron. Maybe he is right. He is supposed to be my best friend, the person I can trust with anything and everything, but I didn't. I didn't trust him to help me when I needed it. I didn't trust him to understand me, or to look out for me. On the other hand, how can he expect me to trust him? Last year, he did the same thing. He jumped to conclusions and judged me based on things that were pure speculation. He spent half of a year hating me for something that wasn't true; something I told him repeatedly was not true. And now he expects me to run to him and tell him everything I think? Why? Why should I do that when he so obviously isn't capable of hearing anything other than what he wants to hear?

Hermione, on the other hand, listened to me. I know she did, I could see it on her face. She listened to me, and she pitied me. I can't deal with pity. Anger, I know I'll be able to handle eventually. I will just get angry with Ron in response, like I always do, and we'll argue with each other until one of use decides to cave. Or we'll never speak to each other again. Either way, I'll be able to justify my own emotions, and everything is easier to deal with if you can somehow excuse yourself from it. Pity, however, is much more difficult. What emotion do you feel in response to pity? You can pretend to be angry, but it's always painfully clear that the person pitying you has no malicious intent that warrants your anger. In the end, you just end up feeling pathetic and stupid and worthy of pity. Pity breeds nothing but self-loathing and helplessness.

Of the three of them, Hagrid is clearly the hardest to read. I wasn't expecting his reaction; Hagrid is not usually someone to hold back. He told me Ron and Hermione would come around. But come around to what? Am I to assume, from his remarks, that he still supports me? That he is attempting to understand? Or perhaps he, like Snape, truly does understand, and that is why he said so little. Maybe he just saw how close I was to tears and wanted to give me a chance to compose myself. Maybe he isn't sure what to think or say. Would I know how to react, if I were in Hagrid's place? Somehow I doubt it. 

"Harry? Are you all right?" Snape slipped quietly into his rooms and walked over to where I sat sprawled in an armchair. "Did something happen?"

"Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to be here right now, but... I tried, Professor, but they just don't seem to care. Ron is furious with me. He thinks I should have gone to him instead of you. He said that you will use whatever I've told you against me. I don't agree with him of course... I just... Its already been so hard, Professor, and now it feels like I'm losing my best friends, too, and I don't think that I can deal with that." Snape takes several deep breaths, and turns his face away from me.

"That bloody git... Look, Harry, I know this probably isn't what you want to hear from me, but I'm going to say it anyway. Ronald Weasley is petty, insolent and childish. He is not particularly intelligent, and he is certainly not a very good friend. That being said, I know his friendship means a lot to you, and I know you must be very hurt. Ron just doesn't understand, Harry. I know you've explained the facts as much as you can, but how can Mr. Weasley be expected to know what you were feeling? Its a difficult thing to put into words, and I have long doubted Mr. Weasley's ability to listen properly, but perhaps if Ms. Granger were to act as a mediator?" Snape places a comforting arm on my shoulder, and his tone is gentle, but his eyes are flashing furiously and I can see the hand still by his side curl longingly into a fist.

"Professor, you aren't going to do anything stupid in potions tomorrow are you? Because if you treat Ron any worse than you usually do, everyone else might become suspicious and Ron will know exactly what is going on. It would just make things worse between us."

"You know I won't do anything overt enough to put your life or mine in danger, Harry, but I can't make any promises about Mr. Weasley, simply because I can't guarantee that I will keep them. I've never liked that boy, and I don't think I ever will. Just promise me that you will attempt to work out whatever problems the two of you have quickly. Weasley is rash and thoughtless; having him angry with you when you are in such a precarious position is unwise, no matter how idiotic and unfounded his anger is." Snape's voice is still laced with anger, but I can also hear his resignation. He is right, that I have to try and patch things up with Ron right away. Ron has a tendency to say and do things he shouldn't when he is angry, and although I am quite certain that Hermione is restraining him, it is only a matter of time before something slips.

"You're right, Professor. I should probably go and talk to him now. Hermione will make him listen to me, I'm pretty sure. But sir, I don't... what is left to say? How can I make things right when I don't think I understand Ron any more than he understands me?" Snape stares own at me for awhile, then moves away from my chair and gets us both tea. It seems that the entire castle views tea as some sort of cure-all, save, perhaps, for Madame Pomfrey. I accept the steaming cup gratefully and turn my attention to the professor as he pulls a chair closer to me and sits down.

"Look, Harry, I've never claimed to know all there is to know about Gryffindors. Or friendships. Or much at all that applies to this particular situation. All I know is that Hermione Granger will not rest until her world is back to being easy and predictable and structured. And that won't happen until her two best friends like each other again. You may not know what to say to Mr. Weasley, but that bloody know-it-all has a _talent_ for speaking when she has nothing to say and for pretending, at least, to have all the answers. I'm quite certain that with her there, the two of you will manage to communicate." I study Snape carefully, surprised by the amount of anger in his voice. His face is drawn and his expression dour. To say that he looks tired is an understatement of epic proportions.

"Professor... Are you all right? I don't mean to pry or anything, but you don't look very well. And besides, I know you don't particularly care for my friends, but after everything I've seen of you this summer, its hard to believe that this is really you, showing so much hatred towards them..." Snape takes a deep breath and sips his tea slowly. The tension in his features becomes more apparent than ever as he answers me.

"I'm sorry, Harry, it's like this for me every year. I spend all summer relaxing, being myself, not having to worry about some student catching me with my guard down, and then it begins all over again. I have to turn back into some horrible old man, pretend to hate everyone and everything, and this year, especially, I have to make sure that my position as a spy isn't compromised in any way. It's difficult for me, but the first day is always the hardest. After awhile, it just becomes another routine. I shouldn't have spoken about Ms. Granger the way that I did, and for that I am sorry. I meant every word I spoke about Mr. Weasley, however, and I will not apologize for speaking the truth. Maybe there is something in him that I can't see, but I will not lie to you. I don't like him, Harry, and the things he said to you today certainly didn't endear him to me." I nod, a bit taken aback. It isn't like Snape to speak at such lengths about himself, and it certainly isn't like him to apologize.

"Ron isn't so bad, sir... He just needs to grow up." I find myself defending Ron without hesitation, despite my anger. And although I have no desire to say it to Ron's face, I know with absolute certainty that I am right. Ron has no malicious intent; he barely notices how much his words hurt people. Ron is thoughtless, certainly, but he isn't cruel. Given enough time (and enough time with Hermione), I am certain he will outgrow his more unbearable habits.

"Perhaps... But what are his friends to do in the meantime? Why don't you give Mr. Weasley the evening to calm some of his more volatile emotions, and discuss things with him tomorrow, instead? Then you can have all the time you need to think about what to say to him, and Ms. Granger can attempt to get something into that abominably thick skull of his. Besides, it might be easier to adjust if you went about things slowly. And I have a most amusing story to tell you about my third-year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class that ends with a furious pink and green striped Ravenclaw screaming at two bright orange Hufflepuffs that managed to explode a cauldron on their first day..." I grin and sink deeper into the chair. If there is one thing I can count on from Professor Snape, it is a temporary solution, even when a more permanent one cannot be found. If he can't assure that my problems will disappear, he at least makes sure that I have something better to think about. 


	21. 21

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Merry Christmas! Its a short chapter, but it is here, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reviewed and emailed. Hope you like this chapter.

Chapter 21

I slip silently out of Snape's rooms, swinging the portrait shut on his snores. Snape told me story after story about incompetent students causing catastrophes in his potions classes, until he finally fell into a restless sleep. I'm fairly certain that he heard me leave, but I don't check. I walk quickly, praying that I don't run into any other students. I know that I can't avoid them forever, but I'm tired and hurt, and all I want is to go to bed.

I manage to reach the entrance to the common room without meeting anyone, but I can't avoid a conversation with the Fat Lady. "Harry Potter! You have been here all summer long, and you didn't come see me once! Sulking around in the dungeon with no one to keep you company but those vile suits of armor, what were you thinking? Well, no matter, you are here now! What is the password?"

I blink, trying to comprehend the stream of words buzzing around my head. Finally it registers that all I have to do is tell her the password and I sigh in relief. "Lion heart," I mutter, and the Fat Lady heaves open with a slightly offended 'humph.'

The common room is warm and inviting, but I recoil from the amount of noise. A group of kids I don't recognize, presumably first years, are watching in amazement as Seamus and Dean play a heated game of wizard's chess. The pieces look more frustrated than amazed, though, as members of the crowd throw out conflicting directions. Neville is proudly showing off his prefect's badge to Ginny, who is struggling not to show her shock. She is failing miserably, but Neville doesn't seem to mind. I begin to feel more comfortable as I realize that no one has noticed me. I move to slip up the stairs to my bed, but a hand clamps down on my shoulder.

"With me. Now." Hermione speaks sharply and firmly, and I don't bother arguing. She drags me up the stairs to the boys dormitory and yanks open the door. Ron is sitting on his bed, facing the door, his mouth in a grim line. It is obvious that he was expecting us, and he isn't any happier about having this conversation now than I am. Both of us recognize Hermione's mood though, and you do not argue with Hermione when she is this set on "fixing" things.

"Now, Harry, sit down. Facing Ron. And give me your wand, I already have Ron's" I sit on my bed, just opposite of Ron, and wordlessly pass over my wand. Hermione waits for a few seconds, but Ron and I just stare at each other. He doesn't want to talk to me, and I don't know what to say to him. Hermione growls impatiently, and turns to me.

"Harry, what you told us this evening isn't enough for us to understand. Ron may be more vocal about it, but both of us are hurt that you didn't tell us what was going on with you. How can you expect us to remain friends if you can't trust us with your problems?" Hermione's tone is gentle, but I wince at the words.

"It isn't that I don't trust you. Of course I trust you, you are my best friends and that will never change. But how could I expect you to understand? When Cedric died, it was because he was with me. That is the only reason. And if he died because he was with me, what guarantee do I have that the same won't happen to you? You are in danger because you are my friends. That was part of it. Part of why I didn't go to you. A lot of it is hard to explain. It was just feelings, mostly. Like being buried under this huge weight and knowing that you brought it on yourself. All I wanted was to end all of it, to make sure that I didn't hurt any one else. I don't think that you understand, and I don't know how to make you understand. That is another reason that I stayed with Snape. I didn't want to, at first, but he has been where I am now. He knew what I was feeling without me telling him. I know that I should have explained that to you, at least, I should have written and told you where I was, but... Have either of you really ever felt like the world would be a better place without you? Like you are single-handedly responsible for all the pain you see around you? Its all-consuming and terrifying and I couldn't think about anything else. And then exactly what I was afraid of happened today. I told you, and you didn't understand, and treated me as though I had intentionally caused you pain. I didn't. I never want you to think that I did."

I stop talking and look up cautiously. Hermione is in tears, and Ron is gently rubbing her back, attempting to comfort her. I don't look at Ron's face. I want to, but I can't. I don't want to be judged again, and I don't want to have him angry with me anymore. I'm tired, and the more I talk about this summer, the more I want to curl up in bed and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. I have classes tomorrow, and I don't know if I will be able to get through them knowing that Ron is angry with me.

"Harry." Ron's tone is hesitant and unsure. I look up, and he takes a deep breath. "I've never seen you like this before. You are my best friend, and you are obviously not well. I'm sorry that I reacted the way I did to begin with, but... Well, its Snape, Harry! What do you want me to say? I don't like him, I won't lie to you. And I don't trust him. I'm furious with you for going to him instead of us, and I think that he is manipulating you for his own purposes. I won't pretend otherwise. The best that I can offer you is a promise to mind my own business and pretend that none of this happened." I nod, but I am far from satisfied. Ron is my friend, but so is Snape. I want to be able to talk to Ron and be myself with Ron, but it doesn't seem like that is going to happen. I am too tired to argue with him any more, and for tonight, I will compromise with him. Hermione smiles delightedly, and rushes over to hug me. I let her think that she has solved my problems, but offer a rather pointed yawn to get her out of my room. She laughs again and practically dances out of the door. Ron shoots another glance back at me, then follows her out. I pull on my pajamas and crawl into bed, desperate for a chance to just stop thinking. Ron and I are not back to normal, and I don't know how to fix that, but I do know that I am not willing to lose the kindness I have found in Snape because Ron can't get over a his childish prejudices. 


	22. 22

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: I know, I know, its been forever! I'm sorry, I was swamped with work. Stupid midterms. 

In Silent Lucidity- The title means The Summer of Suicide (which doesn't sound nearly as good as the Italian!)

Everyone- Thank you for the wonderful reviews, and I apologize for the delay. Hope you enjoy the new chapter. 

Chapter 22

I slip quietly into my seat behind a tall, sturdy cauldron, grateful that I beat Snape into the room. Hermione clucks disapprovingly, as much for my bedraggled, unkempt look as for my tardiness. I give a slight apologetic shrug and begin pulling out my books just as the professor sweeps into the room. I note with a groan that he is coming from the private laboratory that I now know lays just behind the classroom and gives Snape ample room to spy on late students.

"Tardy on the first day of class, Mr. Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor and detention tonight at seven. You are in fifth year now, Mr. Potter, and I expect even someone with a retention rate as despicably small as your own to be fully aware of Hogwarts' policy on class attendance. I will not tolerate your blatant disregard for the rules any longer. I suggest you rid yourself of whatever delusions you may have about your own importance now. They will not stand this year. I daresay you might find yourself longing for the more lenient Professor of your first year." Snape delivers his speech in a calm, almost apathetic voice, but a malicious smirk indicates just how much he enjoys tormenting me. The act is flawless, and I am almost embarrassed to try my new facade in front of such a perfect actor.

"Yes, sir," I mutter, trying to inject the proper combination of anger and resentment into my voice. The fear I don't have to fake. The threat of an angrier, more bitter Snape than the one I have seen since first year is nearly enough to send me running from the room, no matter how certain I am that it is an act. Merlin, how much does the man think I can stand? A soft chuckle comes from somewhere across the room and Snape turns quickly on his heel.

"Mr. Malfoy. Welcome back. I trust you had a pleasant summer?" Malfoy smirks, his a pale shadow of the professor's.

"Fine, thank you, Professor Snape." Malfoy's arrogant voice is intensely irritating and I have to force myself not to show my agitation. Snape gives a short nod and turns to the blackboard beside him. I pay close attention as Snape lists the ingredients we will need for the day. The recipe is for a simple healing potion, probably something Madam Pomfrey needs restocked. For the first time in Snape's class, I am completely comfortable in what I am doing. Ignoring Hermione's surprised look and Ron's accusing glare, I mix the ingredients with ease. Snape criticizes me as sharply as ever, but I notice that the criticisms are more constructive than usual, despite the angry tone of voice. I finish the potion quickly, and am surprised to find myself sorry when the class is over. I walk out of the room behind Ron and Hermione, trying desperately not to smack Ron across the back of his head as he whines about the horrible Snape.

"I can't believe the way that man talks to you, Harry. Why do you just sit back and take it? He obviously can't stand you, you should just tell him to bugger off!" I can feel myself getting angrier and angrier, but as Ron knows very well, I can't say anything in defense of Snape in front of the other students. The immature little prat obviously thinks he is being subtle, turning me away from the one person I feel comfortable talking to. I force myself to nod and say something agreeable before edging away to talk to Dean and Seamus.

I manage to avoid Ron for most of the afternoon, but by the end of the day, the rest of Gryffindor is looking at the two of us oddly and whispering about why we suddenly hate each other. Most people seem to be under the impression that Ron and Hermione have finally started dating and I am jealous, an idea that I find ludicrous, but much safer than the truth. Ron feeds into the rumor by denying it angrily, his face bright red, and then refusing to say why he and I are really mad at each other. At least he isn't foolish enough to spill the entire story. As delighted as I am to sit in the corner of the common room laughing as Ron sputters defensively, I realize that my detention is fast approaching and I have homework to do. I walk upstairs to my bedroom and flop down on the bed. Much to my dismay, the door swings open again and Ron storms in.

"You could have helped me back there, you know!" Ron seethes. "I had no idea what to tell them!"

"That much was obvious," I mutter. "Look, Ron, I know you don't like Snape, but no matter what you say to me, you aren't going to convince me that I should hate him too. You told me you were going to pretend nothing happened this summer, but instead you try and manipulate me and turn me back into the person I was before the Triwizard Tournament. I am not that person, and I will never be that person again. I may not be happier, but I am smarter, and I'm not willing to let that go and turn back into a judgmental, ignorant child. I don't think that I can."

Ron lets me say my peace, then turns and stalks back out of the room. I roll my eyes and prepare to go back to my work when Ron stomps back in.

"This isn't my problem, you know. Its yours. You are the one who is so screwed up, you are the one who has this big secret, you are the one asking me to lie to my friends to save some stupid deatheater. And then when I need you to help me keep your stupid secret you sit back and laugh. What kind of friend are you? What did he turn you into?

"If by 'he' you mean Snape, he had nothing to do with it. I grew up, Ron, get used to it. Maybe someday it'll happen to you, too. And you're right, this is my problem, but I need you to help me, not to protect Snape, but to protect me. What do you think Voldemort would do if he knew that I tried to kill myself? He would know exactly what my weaknesses are, he would know exactly which buttons to push. You don't think he would use that against me? Maybe I shouldn't have laughed at you, but what do you expect? You made me angry today, and if they think that it's because I'm jealous of you and Hermione, at least no one will be killed. Do you think its better for me to be dead than for you to be a little embarrassed? Is that where your priorities lie?" Ron looks shaken and pale, and I decide to give him a little time to think over what I said. "I'm going to dinner, and then to detention. I'll be back later." I turn and walk out, leaving a very confused Ron standing in the middle of the room.

I rush down to the Great Hall, noticing that I only have about half an hour for my dinner. Snape won't be happy if I'm late, so I shovel food down my throat as quickly as I can. I don't really taste anything, but thats okay. Arguing with Ron never does much for my appetite. I finish with a few minutes to spare, mutter a quick goodbye to the other fifth-years and hurry to the dungeons. I'm about half way there when Snape falls in step beside me.

"You certainly aren't doing well with timeliness today, Mr. Potter," he murmurs. I check my watch quickly, not slowing down.

"I still have two minutes, Professor," I answer, and pick up my pace. I glance up and notice Snape smirk quickly.

"My private lab, tonight, Harry. I want to talk to you." I nod, surprised by the sudden change to the more informal, friendly Snape. We reach the entrance to the laboratory together and Snape mutters the password and sweeps into the room. I follow him quickly and shut the door behind me with an echoing thud. I look down at my watch once more and grin.

"Made it with 26 seconds to spare, Professor." Snape rolls his eyes and motions to a stool behind an already steaming cauldron. I sit down and wait while Snape settles down beside me. "What's this," I ask, motioning to the cauldron.

"Your detention, Mr. Potter. I started a new batch of fever reducer for Poppy this morning, you are going to finish it while we talk." I am surprised and I suppose it shows on my face because Snape smirks widely. "What? Did you think I was joking when I said you had detention? You were late to class!" I roll my eyes and check the progress of the potion. It needs to boil for a few more minutes, so I sit back down.

"Why were you late, Harry? You weren't at breakfast, either. What happened?" Snape looks very concerned, and he is staring at me so intently that I know I will not be able to just shake his questions off.

"I didn't sleep very well," I answer. "I had a few nightmares and didn't really fall asleep until 3 or 4 this morning. I slept through breakfast and just got up in time to make it to class when I did." I try to sound calm and nonchalant, but Snape isn't fooled.

"You haven't had nightmares in quite awhile. What happened?"

"I think it must have been the argument with Ron. I was upset when I went to sleep, and I never sleep well when I'm worried about something." I get up and begin to slice some shrivelfigs. Snape nods approvingly.

"So you don't think that it will be a problem tonight?" Snape catches my eye and I sigh. Damn it, why won't the man let me lie to him for once?

"Ron and I had another argument before dinner." I keep my response as brief as possible and pretend to be busy, stirring in the shrivelfigs.

"Take it off the heat now, Harry. What did you and Ron argue about this time?" I take the cauldron off of the flame and pour in some powdered bicorn, watching the color change from a dark gray to bright yellow.

"He made some comments after potions that made me angry. I avoided him for most of the afternoon, but the other Gryffindors started to realize something was wrong. I let them come to their own conclusions instead of jumping in and saying something to make Ron sound like some bloody hero so he thinks I betrayed him." Snape snorts.

"I did warn you," he says. I roll my eyes and stir the potion three times counterclockwise.

"Thanks, Professor, that was helpful." Snape chuckles and stands up to help me bottle the potion.

"Look, Harry, it will take Ron time to accept this. As far as he is concerned, I'm the evil villain, or at least one of his minions, and you are the hero. You are supposed to smite me, not befriend me. You've shaken his whole view of the world, and he can't deal with that right now. Keep trying, but put some distance between you and don't let yourself react to whatever petty comments he makes. He'll come around eventually."

"Thanks, Professor," I mutter, and gather my bags to leave.

"Harry." I stop and turn back to Professor Snape. "Grab a bottle of dreamless sleep on your way out. Middle shelf, third row from the right." I nod and grab the bottle. "Take some tonight, and whenever you feel you won't be able to sleep without it. If you run out, I will be happy to supply you with more. But I expect you to come and talk to me whenever you need it, don't just rely on the potion. And Harry?"

"Yes?" I ask.

"I expect you to be on time for class from now on." Snape grins, and I turn and walk out of the lab, praying that Ron won't say anything stupid when I return.


	23. 23

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: That's right, another chapter already. I'm proud... Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful reviews (especially crockywock, who submitted 3 reviews since I posted the last chap...) and I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Also, several people have asked since I last posted this in chapters 5 and 10, so one more time, this particular story will not be slash. More angst for you in this chapter, enjoy and review.

Chapter 23

__

Screaming. A high pitched voice wracked with pain and terror. I blink and find the source of the voice, a girl, maybe 6 or 7, writhing on the floor. Her face is contorted in an agony I remember too well. A vision, then. Voldemort is out looking for fun. I try to run and help the girl, but it is no surprise to discover that I am unable to move. I look around, carefully cataloging everything I see in case it is of some use to Dumbledore. I try to ignore the pressure and heat rapidly building in my scar, making concentration difficult.

We are in a small house, definitely muggle. We must be in the den, there is a small television against one wall and a large fluffy sofa against the other. There is a small coffee table in the middle of the room, scattered with magazines and junk mail. One of them gives a London address, but I can't quite make out the street. My vision is blurring as the pain grows, and I know it is only a matter of time before I wake up screaming. I've avoided looking at the tortured girl for as long as I can. I need to be able to identify her if Dumbledore asks me to. Bracing myself, I stare down at the child. Brown hair, braided. Her eyes are tightly closed, I don't know the color. She has on purple pajamas, the kind with feet attached. No parents in sight, maybe they tried to hide her and were killed somewhere else. She is crying so much now. So scared, in so much pain, never ending pain that her small body can't handle, that I can't handle, the kind of pain that makes me realize that death is a relief, that breathing hurts, that all I want is for this to be over, and oh Merlin, I think I am dying, I pray that I'm dying...

I wake up bathed in sweat, head throbbing and throat raw. There is a telling silence in the dormitory, and I debate with myself over what to tell my terrified roommates. Finally a shaky voice cuts through the uncomfortable quiet. "Alright, Harry?" Neville asks. I grin into the blackness. Trust Neville to be the one Gryffindor brave enough to say something.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mutter, "Just a nightmare. Sorry to wake you." My voice is rough and shaky, but for one blissful second no one questions me.

"I saw you take Dreamless Sleep earlier," Seamus finally blurts. Shit. I knew that, he'd walked in on me and questioned me about what I was taking.

"I must have made it wrong, that's all. I think I'll go see if Madam Pomfrey is up and get some from her stores." At least now I have an excuse to leave the dorm, and I can go talk to Dumbledore or Snape. I struggle out of bed, grabbing the bedpost to keep myself from falling. Neville jumps out of bed and grabs my arm, giving me some much needed support. Maybe a visit to Pomfrey wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"I better come with you. You don't want to run into Filch or Snape after curfew without a prefect." I try to protest, but I'm leaning heavily on Neville and can't stand on my own. I don't imagine I will have much luck in convincing him, so I don't bother trying. Besides, it probably won't kill me to be walking the halls at night with a prefect's permission for once.

"Alright," I answer, "Come on." Neville begins to walk slowly out of the dorm, guiding me to the stairs. Stairs. Oh hell, if I'm having this much trouble putting one foot in front of the other, how am I going to navigate stairs? Neville, however, appears to be one step ahead of me. He moves around so that he has a hand on each of my shoulders and begins to walk down the stairs backwards, ready to catch me should the need arise. I don't have enough faith in Neville's coordination to feel any safer, but I do appreciate the gesture.

We make it safely out of Gryffindor tower and stumble down the hall, Neville clearly getting tired of supporting my weight. He slows down, taking deep breaths. "So, are you going to tell me what is really going on or are we going to pretend that everyone finds themselves unable to walk after a bad dream?" Neville's voice is soft and prodding, and for the first time I hear real confidence and maturity from him. I'm impressed, and find myself wishing for a moment that either I'd befriended Neville that first day on the train or Ron had whatever epiphany had clearly hit Neville over the summer.

"I think we will have to pretend for now, Neville. Its not that I don't want to talk to you, or that I don't trust you, but this involves a lot of people, and I don't know that I can make the decision about involving you on my own. I hope you aren't offended." Neville stops altogether, and I can feel his eyes on me in the dark.

"I understand. We all have secrets. Just be careful, and I'm always here if you need to talk, alright?" I nod gratefully, and we begin walking again. After what seems like hours, we finally reach the hospital wing.

"Thank you," I say before we enter, "For coming with me. For not pushing me. For understanding." Neville grins and pushes the door open. The hospital wing is deserted, but there are a few lamps always left burning for students. Their soft glow casts an eerie shadow over the starched white bed linen, and I can feel Neville shiver a little beside me. Its almost reassuring to know that he hasn't changed so radically after all. Still afraid of the dark.

Neville leads me over to one of the beds and makes me lay down, then leaves to look for Madam Pomfrey. I sink back into the soft pillows and try to ignore my still throbbing scar and the pain that has spread steadily through my whole body. It strikes me how much stronger Voldemort must be now. Last time I had a vision, the pain was measurably less and faded quickly. My eyes feel heavy and I burrow further down into the bed, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. Moments later, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Mr. Potter? Come on, get up now, you'll have to wake up if you want me to help you." Madam Pomfrey's voice is crisp and sharp, but either my hearing has somehow been affected by my vision or she is speaking very softly. I open my eyes slowly and meet Madam Pomfrey's gaze. Much to my surprise, her face shows a great deal of concern not evident in her voice. "That's it, Mr. Potter, up you get. Mr. Longbottom, I can take care of Mr. Potter from here. Why don't you go wake the headmaster and ask him to come down here, then return to your dormitory?" Neville looks ready to protest, but Madam Pomfrey continues quickly. "No sense in all of us being tired tomorrow, and I am fully capable of taking care of your friend. Now off to the Headmaster, if you please." Neville nods silently and shoots another concerned glance in my direction before leaving the room.

"Now, listen, Mr. Potter, I am under strict orders to tell the headmaster whenever you end up in my care, no matter what the reason. Whether you would like to explain to me the circumstances that brought you here tonight now, or wait for the headmaster to arrive, we are both going to know what is going on before the night is over. You are seriously hurt and need treatment, and I won't deny that knowing what is wrong with you immediately would probably help your treatment, but I will understand if you feel the need to speak to Professor Dumbledore first." Madam Pomfrey's voice is even and controlled, and she makes a great deal of sense. I am tempted to tell her immediately what has happened. She obviously knows something of what is going on already, or it wouldn't have occurred to her that I would want to speak about whatever ailment I have with Professor Dumbledore rather than herself. Still, I don't think that this is my decision to make. If I give information to the wrong person, how many lives will I ruin? And despite my shaken faith in him, I trust Professor Dumbledore with this. I trust him to lead the fight against Voldemort and put any information I give him to good use. As much as I believe the same of Madam Pomfrey, my experience with her is limited, and I can't say that I have any more faith in her than I did in Moody or Quirrel or any of the other professors. 

"I think I'd better wait for the headmaster," I croak. Madam Pomfrey nods as if she had suspected as much and gently pours some water down my throat. I smile gratefully, for her calm acceptance as much as the water, and a distinctly ruffled looking headmaster sweeps into the room.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Poppy. What on earth has happened?" Dumbledore sounds tired and worried and I feel a brief pang of guilt for rousing him. I glance nervously over to Madam Pomfrey, and seems to pick up on my nervousness.

"I believe Mr. Potter wants a word with you alone, Headmaster. I trust you will keep it as brief as possible, as I need to treat this boy quickly." Madam Pomfrey waits for Dumbledore to nod his assent, and then walks swiftly out of the room.

"Harry?" Dumbledore looks down at me, his face etched with concern. "Was it another vision?" I nod and take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.

"A muggle, a little girl, he was torturing her. Cruciatus. She was so small..." I choke back a sob and try to detach myself from the images in my head. I tell Dumbledore all that I can remember, knowing that it probably won't be of much use. How many muggles are there in London, how many little girls with brown hair? How will Dumbledore be able to track them down based on that? And even if he does, what will it really matter? Voldemort isn't stupid, and there may be a reason that he chose that particular family to torment, but it is also possible that there was no logic at all to the attack and he was just trying to amuse himself, explore his new strength. Finally I finish my tale, and Dumbledore places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Alright, Harry. Thank you for telling me first, but from now on when this happens, come straight to Madam Pomfrey and tell her what is wrong. I won't deny the importance of this insight into Voldemort's activities, but I won't have it if it endangers you. I can't stop your visions, but Poppy is capable of treating their effects, and you must allow her to do her work. I will not take any further chances with your well-being." I nod briefly, silently promising to return to the infirmary after my visions. "Good. I will go tell Poppy that she may come in and talk to you now, be sure to do exactly as she tells you. Then I will go and tell Severus what has happened." I open my mouth to protest. I've woken too many people tonight already. Dumbledore seems to anticipate my feelings, though, because he cuts in quickly. "Severus would never forgive me if I didn't tell him what was going on, Harry. Can you imagine if he found out tomorrow that you were in the hospital wing and no one had bothered to inform him?" Dumbledore is right, Snape would hate being left out of the loop. I nod again, grimacing in pain at the movement. Dumbledore seems reminded that he is supposed to be in a hurry, and rushes out of the room to find Madam Pomfrey.

"Now, Mr. Potter, are you ready to tell me what happened?" Madam Pomfrey's words are clipped and business-like, but her eyes betray her concern. I don't give her the same details that I gave to Dumbledore, instead I tell her that I had a vision of Voldemort torturing a muggle and felt the pain of the Cruciatus curse he cast on her. I can see the horror on Madam Pomfrey's face for just a second before she regains her composure. She clucks worriedly as she begins bustling around, looking for the appropriate potions. Professor Snape walks in just as she sets a goblet down in front of me.

"What are you giving him, Poppy?" Snape's voice is soft and tense, and he approaches my bed softly.

"The same thing I give you after you come back from one of those dreadful meetings, Severus. I don't know how else to treat him except to assume that he felt the curse because he was under it just as much as the person in his vision." Snape nods approvingly and pulls up a chair by my bedside as I down the distasteful potion. I have a sudden flashback to the last time we were in these positions and wince. Madam Pomfrey is saying something about me staying in bed for at least another day or two, and Snape keeps staring at me in that unnerving way of his, but I ignore them both. My entire body aches and I'm exhausted, the last thing I need is to have these stupid memories haunting me. I push the empty goblet away from me and sink back against the pillows again. Dammit, how many times am I going to be in here this year? How many times will Voldemort decide to torture someone and put me right back in this room for a few days at a time? How am I supposed to pass this year if I spend most of my time in the hospital wing? Snape reaches out and shakes my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Harry? Mr. Potter!" I turn and face Snape, anger written clearly across my face.

"Look, Snape, I'm tired and I'm hurt. If you want to talk it can wait until morning." Madam Pomfrey makes a noise deep in her throat that sounds suspiciously like laughter and wishes me good night and good luck before leaving the room. Last time she wished someone good luck it was Snape, and he was trying to convince me not to off myself. Merlin, will this never end?

Snape doesn't bother with a reply, he merely waits until Pomfrey leaves and sits down beside me on the bed. He pulls me against him and I'm too weak to fight it. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I can't help but feel comforted by Snape's presence and I relax into his hug. I furiously fight tears as I huge sigh escapes me, and Snape rubs my back gently. Groaning inwardly, I give up and begin to sob helplessly. Its not like he would leave before I let go anyway, and its so hard to hold it all in. I trust Snape and I need him, and it is terrifying to admit that, but I'll eventually have to admit it anyway, might as well do it now. Snape continues to hold me silently, and I'm grateful not to have to tell my story again.

"Did you take the dreamless sleep potion?" Snape finally asks. I nod. "It didn't work?" Obviously. I don't bother replying. "Alright. Will you be okay if I go back to my room? I have a bit of research I'd like to do." I nod again and finally meet Snape's gaze.

"Tomorrow. Do your research tomorrow. You look as exhausted as I am." Snape chuckles and lays me back on the bed. 

"Okay, I promise I'll sleep tonight if you promise to come and see me as soon as Poppy lets you out of bed. You may be too tired to talk tonight, but that doesn't mean you are getting out of it altogether." I give Snape a reluctant yes, and feel my eyes drift shut as he sweeps out of the room. 


	24. 24

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: Finally, I'm back. Apologies to the people I told two weeks ago that the chapter would be up in a few days, I've had some unexpected issues to deal with, on top of studying for four AP exams that I'll be taking over the next two weeks. But enough about that nonsense, the new chapter is here, for your reading pleasure (or at least I _hope_ it brings you pleasure...) This chapter takes kind of a new direction and it isn't a style I'm used to writing, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you again to my amazing reviewers and to the people who IM'd/emailed/nagged me in school (looking your way, Sonia...) to get me writing. Also, check out some of my original work at my new website (still under construction), link is in my profile.

Sorry for the confusion last night, not sure what went wrong. Thanks to everyone who emailed/reviewed to tell me that I needed to fix it. 

Chapter 24

I trudge slowly down to Snape's office, my muscles still a bit sore. Madam Pomfrey almost refused to let me leave, but Professor Dumbledore stepped in and reminded her that I needed to attend classes. I appreciate Madam Pomfrey's concern, I really do, but I've already missed two days of work and the stack of assignments Hermione left in the hospital wing is almost as tall as I am. It does not escape my notice that the vast majority of the work comes from the very man I am going to visit, but I suppose that shouldn't be such a surprise.

I knock lightly on the door to Snape's office, waiting patiently to be let in. I can hear the professor moving around in the small room, glass bottles clanging loudly against shelves, papers rustling endlessly. Finally the door swings open, and a clearly distraught professor stands before me.

"Harry! Poppy finally let you out. Come in." Snape's words spill out of his mouth with none of the ordered restraint I have come to expect. He steps aside to let me enter and very nearly trips over a stack of papers a foot high just behind the door. The man quickly regains his balance, but he can do nothing to clear his harried expression or calm his shaking hands.

"Er... I can come back later, if you like, Professor," I murmur nervously, unsure how to act around yet another previously undiscovered aspect of the potion master's personality. Snape shakes his head vigorously, his eyes darting around the room, searching for some unidentifiable object. Finally, his eyes meet mine and he takes a deep breath, visually calming himself.

"No, I need to talk to you. Why don't we go back to my sitting room and have a bit of tea? It will be easier to talk in there, I think, and most of your friends are still in class, so you won't be missed." I nod in agreement, my apprehension growing. I'd like to believe that if something had happened, Dumbledore would have come to tell me, but it is difficult to convince myself of that when the headmaster very obviously keeps everything he believes it unnecessary for me to know secret from me. It is frustrating to no end, but I don't know that I have any right to judge Dumbledore for his actions. After all, I told Neville myself that I could not reveal anything to him when I wasn't the only person involved, it is entirely possible that the headmaster has similar reasons for keeping things from me.

Snape and I approach the entrance to his chambers quickly, and I smile at the cheerful little man dancing inside of the gaudy gold frame. Snape growls his password with as much disdain as usual and I am pleased to find that he isn't acting as differently as I supposed. I follow the professor inside and flop down in my chair. Snape seems more and more like himself as he sinks into the familiar rooms. The tea cups clink together a few times as he gets them down from the cabinet, but the shaking appears to be subsiding. Lines disappear from the professor's face and he hands me a steaming cup before sitting across from me, sipping deeply.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Harry, I know I'm not acting quite like myself. Immediately after I returned to my rooms after your vision, I was called. I apparated to Voldemort's side and discovered quickly that it was no ordinary death eater meeting. I should have assumed it would not be; it had been several months since the last general meeting and there was no reason to have one three nights ago. At least not to my knowledge. Most unfortunately, my knowledge is limited, and Voldemort managed to accomplish quite a lot in the last few months without me being alerted. The girl you saw in your vision, the little muggle, she was no ordinary child. The girl was the first to be identified by a new system Voldemort has developed that singles out potential wizards born to muggles and allows him to find and eliminate them. The potential for this new system is unlimited; Voldemort is now able to identify muggle-born witches and wizards across the world and has every intention of eradicating the entire group. It will be impossible to protect everyone, especially without the Ministry's cooperation. I'm not telling you this to frighten you, I'm telling you because you have a right to know, and Dumbledore will not tell you himself. He believes that informing any of the students- even the muggle-borns, who are in an extraordinary amount of danger- will create unnecessary panic. In telling you what I did, I put my life in your hands. Voldemort will know if this information is leaked out at Hogwarts that I am a spy, and he will have me killed. Albus, Minerva and I, among others, are working nonstop to eliminate this threat, but it won't be done quickly. I have to ask you to trust us, and to work with us if we need you. Don't keep anything from us, it is imperative that we have all the help we can get."

I sit back, setting my cup of tea on the table beside me. I am shaken and scared, I don't know how to react. Hermione is a muggle-born witch. She has put up with the prejudice of people like Draco Malfoy since she entered the wizarding world, and now there is a way for Voldemort to find her and kill her, and I am being asked to keep that from her. How can I do that? How can I not alert her to the threat, make her more aware of her surroundings, keep her vigilant? How can they ask me to help them and not let me help my friends? It is too much. I can't do this, I can't pretend that nothing is wrong and know that at any minute another muggle-born could be dying. And the little girl, the one I saw being tortured to death, she hadn't even had a chance to discover the possibilities of magic, she wasn't even in school yet.

"What do you mean I can't tell anyone? Professor, my classmates are in danger, they need to know to be careful. How can they protect themselves if they don't know that they need protection?" My voice is soft and I am struggling to contain my anger and fear.

"How can they protect themselves if they do? Harry, your friends are teenagers, they cannot protect themselves against the death eaters, the best they can do is run. And what if they knew? What if they knew that at any minute, they might be attacked? They would look for danger around every corner, they would run screaming every time they heard a strange noise or saw something out of the ordinary. At Hogwarts, that means they would be under constant stress. Look, Harry, I'm not happy with this. I agree with you that there are people who should be told, people like Hermione who I know I can trust to react rationally. I had the same conversation with Albus that you are having with me, and we could not find any way to ensure the safety of the people we trust with this information. Hermione is safe here, but what if Voldemort finds her at home over Christmas? What if he gives her veritaserum and she tells him that she knows about his plans, that I'm a spy, that the ministry isn't behind us, that he can do whatever he wants with no official resistance? Can you imagine the scope of the devastation he would cause? There would be nothing to stop him, nothing to hold him back."

"What if we told Hermione and she agreed to stay here over Christmas, where she is safe? She wouldn't go home if she thought that she might be in danger."

"What would she do when she saw the other muggle-borns packing up to leave? I burdened you with this knowledge because I had to, if you tell Hermione she will be faced with the choice between telling her friends what she knows and possibly saving their lives, or keeping the secret, allowing me to continue to gather information that may be used to eliminate Voldemort for good, but risk allowing her friends to die. Harry, that is the decision I faced, the decision Albus faced, and now the decision you face. I can't help you make this decision, I can only tell you what I believe to be true. I believe this war will not be easy. I believe many will die. I also believe that, given time, we can defeat this threat. I believe that you are essential to this fight, although I won't claim to know why. I believe that your decision, right now, will determine the course this war will take, and I believe that you will make what you believe to be the right decision, whatever that may be. I'm not putting my faith in the Boy Who Lived, Harry, I'm putting it in you. I know that you hate having this kind of responsibility, and I know that I promised to take care of you. I'm trying, Harry, I'm doing the best I can to let you be normal, but you aren't and there are some responsibilities I can't shield you from. This is one of them."

"I see, I think. This is one of those sacrifice a few to save the world things. Except it isn't certain, is it? You don't know that you can get rid of Voldemort, you don't know that you wouldn't have a better chance of winning if everyone knew exactly what was going on. Its all guesswork. I trust you, Professor, I trust your judgment. But I don't understand how you can make a decision like this. How can you trust yourself?"

Snape meets my eyes without hesitation. "I don't. I can't. I will never know if the choice I made was the right one, I will never know if making another decision could have saved lives. But I had to make a choice, and so do you. Harry, this is the best I can do for you. I lie to you and tell you that this is cut-and-dry, only one right answer. I don't even know if there is a right or wrong anymore, I just know that we have to do something, and what we do depends on the choice you make. You don't have to decide right now, we have some time. Voldemort can't act openly until he believes that he is strong enough to survive any resistance. Your friends will be safe for awhile longer. The fate of the world doesn't rest in your hands, nothing as melodramatic as all that. You have a big part to play in this war, but you aren't the only person fighting. I care about you, Harry, and I want you to know that you will _always_ be cared for, no matter what you decide. But you must decide eventually."

I look critically at Professor Snape. It seems as though the man has a limitless capacity for change, an endless supply of personas. One minute he is my arrogant and intimidating potions master, the next, a tender and kind friend, then the cool, unyielding leader I see before me now. Somewhere underneath the man I am talking to, I know that the worried, fretful man I caught a glimpse of in the office is still quivering apprehensively. I wonder how much work it takes to appear this calm all of the time. I wonder how long it will be before Snape is able to talk to me about how he really feels, not as the man who is directing me to my place in a war, but as the man who befriended me, who saved me, who is still saving me. I wonder if I want to talk to that Snape about this issue, if I want to associate this stress and pressure with that man. But it doesn't matter what I want, that Snape needs to talk to me, just as much as I need to have this discussion with a friend. I know what I have to do, but I need to hear that it is right not from a strategic point of view but from a human one. I need to know that Snape will stand by me, not Captain Snape, not Slimy Snape, but Professor Snape, the guy who comforts me after nightmares.

"Professor," I whisper nervously, "I think I've already decided." 


	25. 25

Title: L' Estate di Suicidio

Author: Clynn

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and I'm not making any money off of them. 

Author's Notes: ARGH! As soon as I finished this damn chapter I started having trouble with ff.net and my computer started being completely annoying. But the chapter is finally here, despite a long case of writer's block and various other complications. Its not great, but it is a transition chapter and I did the best I could with it. Hopefully I won't have any trouble with this chapter not showing up... Thank you to all of my reviewers, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. I'll try to be more timely about the next one, but we all know I say that every chapter and it never happens.

"Professor," I whisper nervously, "I think I've already decided."

Chapter 25

"Are you sure, Harry?" Snape speaks softly and he sounds almost frightened. It worries me that I have this kind of power over him. Snape is not supposed to know the meaning of fear. He is supposed to be brave and stoic and completely unaware of any vulnerability he may possess. Snape isn't supposed to be human, it disturbs the natural order of things. All summer long, Snape told me that I was just a kid, that I didn't have to be responsible for anyone but myself, and now all of a sudden I find myself with Snape himself under my power. It is terrifying. I wonder if I should be angry that Snape lied to me, but I don't think it was intentional. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, something I certainly can't deny him. I wish too, that I could just be a child. I wish that I could be ignorant and blind and completely unimportant in this war. I want to be just another student, with nothing to do but complete my years at Hogwarts, get a job and start a family. Instead, I find myself with the lives of my classmates in my hands. All I've wanted for as long as I can remember is knowledge, about who I am, where I belong, what is going on in the world around me. Now I have that knowledge and despite all the responsibility it gives me, I don't want to give it up. I don't want to be left behind in this fight, its too personal, too important.

"I'll keep your secret, Professor," I say, with more confidence than I really feel, "I won't tell Hermione or anyone else. But you have to promise me, you have to swear... You are doing all that you can, aren't you? You are pushing yourself as far as you can and using every resource that it is safe for you to use to fight this. I can't accept anything less than that. There is a chance that I am letting my friends die because I have faith in you, and I can't leave this room until I know that my faith is justified."

Snape nods, and I am relieved to see so much understanding in his face. I trust Snape more than I have ever trusted anyone in my life, but this situation has nothing to do with my personal feelings. I don't want him to think that I don't have faith in him, but I need to know that he is doing everything that he possibly can for Hermione and everyone else in danger because I am keeping his secret. Snape beckons for me to follow him back into his private study and swings open the door softly. The room is just as messy as his office was, something incredibly out of character for Snape. Stacks of books and rolls of parchment are everywhere and there is a bottle of ink overturned on his desk. Even his desk chair is covered with books and quills and there is no free space to move around.

"Sorry about the mess, Harry," Snape mutters, "But I know exactly where everything is in here, and I need to be able to get to it quickly. I'm not known for my patience on a good day, when I'm working on a project it gets much worse." Snape flicks his wand and the bottle of ink sits back upright, the contents flowing back into their container. Where there was once a large puddle of thick black liquid, I can now see rows and rows of Snape's hasty scrawl. "Over there," Snape motions, "Are books on the magical theory behind tracking and locating spells. Over there, books on specific potions and spells used to find and track people." Snape points to another corner of the room. "Those are all of the books ever written on biological differences between muggles and wizards. And the rest are just miscellaneous books that I thought might be of some help." Snape waves his arms about carelessly, as if it isn't at all impressive that in just a few days he's managed to gather all of these books and has pages of notes on them strewn about the room.

"Have you found anything helpful yet?" I ask, unsure how to convey my awe at his dedication and passion.

"I'm not sure. Before I can try and counter what Voldemort is doing, I have to understand how he is doing it. I think I have a pretty good background on tracking potions, but I think that there must be some spell work involved as well and I have to learn as much as I can about any possible spells he could be using. Also, there isn't much known about the biology of muggles and wizards, and while I've been trying to familiarize myself with what we have learned in previous experiments, it is possible that there simply isn't enough information published. I think I am making progress, though." Snape's eyes light up as he discusses his work, and I am grateful that he is leading our fight against this new threat. Snape will work until he is no longer capable of doing so. It would not surprise me to find that Snape hadn't slept at all since he realized the magnitude of the new threat, that he has been working every spare minute and not wasting time on those silly little details that keep us all alive. I reach out and lay a gentle hand on Snape's arm and guide him back to the living room, pushing him into his armchair.

"You know, when I said I had to know you were doing something, I didn't mean you had to do everything. Isn't anyone helping you with this?" Snape looks outraged at the mere thought of asking for help.

"Who can I trust with this, Harry? Dumbledore knows, of course, but he is taking care of every other possible detail, he can't afford to spend time on this." Snape stretches back in his seat and holds back a yawn.

"What about Professor McGonogall? You told me that you trust her, and she would want to help. She won't forgive you if you don't let her work with you, and I know you would benefit from having her perspective on this." Snape looks at me incredulously, as shocked as I am that I am telling him how to delegate his work. I'm hardly the take-charge type, but when people I care about are being hurt- whether its by someone else or by themselves- I am not afraid to act. It is the same impulsiveness that has gotten me in trouble time and time again, but right now, I know I'm right. Snape will be useless if he doesn't share his burden, and Professor McGonogall is the perfect person to share the responsibility with.

"Are you saying that you won't keep this a secret unless I tell Minerva what is going on and let her help me?" Snape's disbelief is almost funny, but the situation squashes any urge I might have felt to laugh.

"When I said I had to know you were doing everything you could, it wasn't a joke, Professor. We will all be better off if Professor McGonogall is included in this." I make myself respond with more firmness than I feel. I am, after all, challenging the authority of my professor and a man I greatly respect. Snape looks at me with some surprise.

"You're serious, aren't you? Listen, Harry, I don't have any problems with telling Minerva about this situation if that is what you want, but we need Dumbledore's clearance. I'll go speak to him later tonight. Anyway, that isn't why I wanted you to come and talk to me today, is it? How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Snape's voice is filled with concern and I smile. Even when he is loaded down with work and obviously very stressed, he is still concerned with my well-being.

"I'm fine, sir," I answer softly. I don't really think I'll get away with such a short answer, but its worth a shot. After all, Snape is under a lot of pressure and the last thing I want to do is add to that. I'm almost as tired of this argument, continually circling around in my head. he's too busy for me, he won't care, I don't have a right to demand his attention. I'm so sick of my own whining, its become almost intolerable.

"Harry, you aren't fine, and we both know it. You watched a little girl being subjected to the cruciatus curse in addition to feeling the effects of the curse yourself. You were forced to explain exactly what happened to Dumbledore, placed in Poppy's overeager hands and then told some rather traumatic news. You aren't fine and I won't for a second accept you lying to me." Snape has certainly regained his authority. I shrink away from him a little. I don't want to think anymore about the upcoming battles, or the battles I have already witnessed. I don't want to give Snape a detailed report on my self-disgust issue of the day. I want to go to bed and pretend that nothing is wrong. I'm good at that, I'm good at pretending that I am normal and that I fit in. Its probably my only real skill. But there I go, whining again.

"I'm tired, Professor, and so are you. I'm going to go back to the dorm and take a nap or something. We can talk about this later." I stand to leave but Snape jumps up in front of me.

"If you are tired, you will sleep here. You will not leave this room until we have this discussion, and frankly, I don't trust you alone right now. Do you want to go to sleep and put this off or talk to me now?" Snape narrows his eyes and gives me the evil professor look that no longer has much of an effect on me.

"I'm going to sleep. See you in a few hours." I keep my voice slow and even and refrain from stalking out of the room. I flop down on my bed and close my eyes. I'm behaving like a child, but I don't care. I'll talk to Snape later, if he insists, but I've had too much heavy discussion for now. And later, I will have to face Hermione, knowing that I have a secret that could cost take her life. Maybe Snape is right not to trust me now


End file.
